Pendragon and Ambrosius
by riveriver
Summary: 7-year-old Arthur Pendragon is dying of an illness not even the court physician can combat, whilst outside of the castle walls a small raven-haired boy is running to keep them both alive.
1. I

Shadows quivered on the wall as the candle flickered, and then abruptly fizzled to nothing. The court physician startled and, feeling silly, had to take a moment to recover before scrambling around in the darkness to find another. He tried to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head that was telling him it was time to go to bed, because despite what he told himself, he needed to retain his sanity, but he fought against his heavy eyes regardless and continued on.

Gaius was a very tolerant man. He had to deal with many things that tried his patience: people playing down their injuries to appear impressive or even people exaggerating their illnesses to draw the attention of those around them, and sometimes, there were cases where he could do nothing but carry out tests and hope for the best by hitting at blind spots, simply because there was no other explanation; although, those times were rare – he was a talented man and he didn't deny it. After all, he was the court physician.

Tonight, however, was one of those times, and Gaius would be damned before he let himself fall asleep on his weary feet.

He watched the fresh candle burn for a few moments and wondered how long it would be until he would have to light a new one before pushing himself back to his desk and continuing to crush herbs and the bad end of a toad in the clay bowl in a very particular manner with a fixed frown on his face. The mixture was slowly turning into a thick, sickly green paste, and Gaius chastised himself for pausing to contemplate how much water he needed to add. He couldn't use water from the pale he had collected from the well – it had too many other things in there that would disrupt the balance... He needed... he needed...

He needed a bloody miracle. That was what he needed.

Gaius fell backwards onto the edge of his seat and dropped his head into his hands.

Arthur Pendragon's only hope of survival was slipping out of the old man's grasp. The young prince was inches from death, and the court physician was helpless.

He couldn't find anything specifically wrong with the boy. The Prince was only displaying symptoms, and they were killing him. It was as if he had a part of every child disease known to Camelot and to Gaius himself – Gaius, who had seen and done so much, who had saved sorcerers and Dragonlords and who had smuggled babies out of Camelot's walls right under his sovereign's nose.

Gaius felt sick. He could not cure the boy. Uther, who had lost so much in gaining him, would lose his only heir, and Gaius feared that in the end it would be deemed his fault. His friend would hold it against him.

The physician looked across to his work. The thick, green paste had already lost its colour and was now a murky yellow. Gaius had hesitated for too long. He sighed. The only thing he could do was to make a cordial to ease the child's passing, and he didn't want to do it.

Before he could even consider standing up to clear the table and begin his work, Sir Baethan burst into his quarters like a whirlwind.

"The King has requested your presence," the tall knight said, taking in the haggard appearance of the physician before him, and Gaius swore he saw pity in the man's eyes.

He knew that it wasn't a matter of requesting – more ordering – and he rose slowly from his chair and inclined for Baethan to unnecessarily lead the way.

It was a slow, quiet walk. Gaius had walked the castle corridor's many times in the dead of night, but none of them had been as dark and sombre as this one, so filled with dread and despair.

When they climbed the stairs and came to Arthur's closed doors, Baethan paused for only a second to open one side for the old man, and then he walked away again to resume his position far end of the hall. Nobody was permitted to pass.

Gaius seemed to steady himself before entering.

"Gaius, he's worse," Uther murmured brokenly before Gaius had a chance to open his mouth. The King was clasping one of his son's tiny hands in his, gazing down with haunted eyes. "Have you found anything?"

Gaius chose his words carefully, but opted to check Arthur's vitals before answering. It was a futile attempt to prove the King wrong and he peered under the prince's eyelids and let a hand hover above his forehead for a few seconds. The boy was still running a fever, and it was worse than before, even with Uther doing as Gaius had ordered by mopping his brow frequently, because Gaius knew that the King needed to do something in a desperate bid to feel useful.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, my Lord," Gaius said softly, preparing to brace himself for the expected reaction.

It came, right on cue. "What do you mean, _nothing_?" Uther demanded, staring vehemently up at the old man from his son's beside with a newborn energy.

"Arthur... Sire, it's just... symptoms."

"Don't be so ridiculous, Gaius. He can't _just_have _symptoms._What are causing them?"

Gaius grimaced as he placed Arthur's other hand down by his lifeless side after checking for the strength of his pulse. The boy's eyes were flickering restlessly and unseeingly under his eyelids and it was almost unnerving.

"I have tried everything."

"You haven't done enough!" Uther roared, rising from his place. "Your incompetence will cost him his life!"

Gaius could only stare back at the King and hold his ground. He was one of the few who could take Uther's rage and not take it as personal insult, even if it was intended as such. "I can only ease his passing."

"You mean to kill him quicker?"

"No, sire, but Arthur is suffering," Gaius explained patiently, yet again. And then he said something only a brave man would in front of Uther Pendragon. "The magic is beyond me."

There was a lengthy pause, only filled with the sound of young Arthur's laboured breathing, and Uther resumed his seat by his son and trembled. "I've considered it," he said finally, and Gaius had to hide the surprised that had momentarily taken control of his face.

The two had never spoken openly of their fears. Gaius, because he feared the reaction and what would be asked of him, knowing it would be out of his control, and Uther, because he didn't want to admit that magic had yet again infiltrated the city walls and attacked what he held so dear.

"You have... researched?" Uther asked, his voice suddenly carefully quiet and hesitant.

"I can promise you that it was the first thing I did, sire."

The King cradled his only son's tiny hand in his some more as if scared it would shatter in his hold, and he found he could do nothing but nod.

Gaius excused himself and headed back to his quarters, barely realising that his pace was much, much slower than before. He did not want to go back and muster the strength to make the cordial, even if it were to help the only heir to Camelot die peacefully as he so deserved, but the man found himself there anyway.


	2. II

A small, skinny boy tore through the pitch-black alley and ducked into the nearest doorway. Precisely fifteen seconds later and no more his mother joined him, and they squeezed against the wood in their desperate attempt to stay hidden.

He felt trapped. He _was_ trapped. Camelot was supposed to be safe. Will had said so. Will had_ promised_. So why did he feel scared?

Hunith's worn but delicate hands clasped around her son's grey cloak and she pulled his hood up over his raven hair with only the gentleness a mother could. A slim finger brushed the side of his cheek affectionately, and Merlin, refusing to show his exhaustion, smiled up at her in the best reassuring way he knew how. He wanted to ask why they were still running, why they were hiding, why she looked so scared and why she was shaking violently, but instead he pressed himself against the foreign door and sucked in his breath as he caught the silver glimmer of a helmet reflecting in the moonlight.

The two listened hard, closing their eyes for only the briefest of moments before Hunith tugged on the grey cloak and led Merlin behind a closed stall where they crouched down, fighting the need to gasp for air and collapse to rest. They still needed to get out of the lower town and into the upper quarter of the city, where they would then be able to slip into the castle. They weren't out of danger yet.

It was way past curfew, and Hunith didn't know if Merlin could hold out much longer. She could see him struggling to keep one foot in front of the other, even though he would never admit it. She felt guilty for pushing him so hard, but they hadn't been able to linger in the outlying forest any longer than they had done already. It would have been just as difficult and just as dangerous to move through the lower quarter in the daylight with so many witnesses.

News spread like wildfire in Camelot, and Hunith didn't want any unwelcome greetings.

The footsteps of the unsuspecting guards retreated beyond the small market and without having to say a word, mother and son ducked from stall to stall, barely noticeable in the darkness.

The Great Purge had started just over seven years ago and had lasted for a year, but the curfew rule had remained. Hunith inwardly cursed Uther Pendragon and crouched over her boy. It had been wiser to move at night, but not safer, apparently. She had gotten this all wrong, but there was nobody, save for Gaius, who she could trust. Even she, a woman from little Ealdor, far away from Camelot, knew that there were Druids lingering here. Druids who were either pretty darn brave or just plain stupid.

Hunith decided they were stupid and jumped to the next stall.

Twenty minutes later, they had somehow made it to the middle of the city. They were doubled over behind some empty barrels.

"You've done so well," Hunith whispered softly. She cupped Merlin's cheek and ran the pad of her thumb over one of the dark, tired rings that framed his eyes. "Remember what we said, cariad. No magic. Not yet."

The boy stared up at her and nodded determinedly with set lips, and Hunith had to remind herself once again that he was only six. "Let's go," he said bravely.

She held him in place and listened. Nothing. "Keep to the shadows around the courtyard. Don't run blind."

Merlin nodded again, staring out at the ground in front of him before expertly darting to the opposite side of the street. It was a long, tense minute before Hunith followed and breathed a sigh of relief as she peered around the corner. Luck seemed to be on their side, because there were no guards standing around the points of the courtyard before the castle as she had expected, but still she reminded Merlin to stay to their planned path.

After more ducking, hiding, holding in their breath and listening out for unwanted footsteps and deep voices, Merlin was hurrying behind his mother along a corridor inside of the castle, under the cloak that was flying at his feet. His mother was in travelling pants and a long, baggy tunic that disguised her feminine frame, and her hair was tied high to keep it out of her face. They were dirty and rugged, tired and grumpy, but alert with terror. It was a bewildering, new feeling that neither of them were quite used to.

One flight of stairs and—if she was correct—they would veer to the left and find the court physician's room. They had come too far to fail and fall into the jeopardy they were running from, and it was so _close_...

Hunith gave a small, twisted grunt and pushed herself forwards toward the stairs and took them two at a time, realising only a little too late when she was at Gaius' door that the sound of tiny footsteps weren't behind her like they should have been.


	3. III

Merlin had honestly been doing his best to keep close to his mother, but that had been _before _an unexplainable wave of nausea had hit him. The force of it was such that he had been flung against the nearest cold, stone wall, and he had begun to choke. There was something what felt like a small cramp at the bottom of his tiny stomach, squeezing what life he had out of him, and he clutched frantically at the searing pain, desperately trying to tear it out of him.

It was several minutes before he managed to regain some sort of control over himself and talk himself out of being scare, and only then was it that he then became conscious of the fact that he was alone.

A second wave of nausea hit him, but this was different to the first—it was pure, paralysing fear. He was on his own, frightened and shaking, and he didn't really know what to do other than to leave a smelly pool of sick on the really clean floor. He hoped nobody would notice a small foul odour in the castle.

There were prickles on the back of his neck and tiny, six-year-old fragile Merlin couldn't help but quiver. Magic. There was magic. Bad magic. Surely there was nothing else that could have made him so sick! His mother had told him he had been able to move things with his strange, sometimes-golden eyes before he could even talk, but he'd never made himself feel like this, no matter what he'd done—not even when Will had fallen into the stream that one time and hit his head because Merlin was angry with him; he'd lost control and made a tree root spurt from the ground so that Will would deliberately trip.

It was worse. He didn't know what to do and he didn't like it.

The cramp was now nothing but a dull, _really_ annoying thud on his side. He eyed the puddle of sick beside him with a wrinkle of his nose and decided it would be best to move.

He rose up slowly, his legs wobbling slightly, and he was taking great care not to step in the vomit or let his cloak billow into it when a loud, boisterous, echoing laugh came from another hall and, startled, Merlin forgot about the dull throbbing he was wondering how to get rid of, and he hurried up the stairs his mother had taken, remembering her warning and pulling his hood up around his face.

The trouble was, she hadn't told him what way to go once they had gotten up the stairs. Hearing the booming echo again, Merlin took a right, flying along the long, spacious corridor, not paying attention to where he was going; he only knew he had to get away from the source of the voice, otherwise he would be in Big Trouble with his mother for being found.

He didn't stop, because he vaguely thought that if he stopped, he would feel sick again and someone would hear his retching, so he kept moving, his legs taking easily the strain from all the running and playing he did with Will and the other children. When he wasn't mad at Will, that is. He didn't even question himself when he flew up another staircase and hid in the nearest room with the open door.

It was empty, except for a boy writhing about in damp sheets on the bed that was too big for him on the far side of the room by the window. Gingerly, Merlin peered around the door behind him, and closed it a little bit, because he knew that if somebody came in he could have a second's head start to hide. Then he did a Stupid Thing that could get him in even more trouble than he already was and tip-toed to the bed.

Merlin let his hood fall. Before him was another boy. He was pale, and wet hair that was probably usually blonde stuck to his forehead, and he was sprawled over the mattress. Merlin decided it probably wasn't very comfortable for him, and then wondered if the boy cared at all because he was moving about so much. It looked like he was having a bad dream. His breathing was hard, almost strained, and his eyes moved wildly underneath their lids. He_ reeked_ of Bad Magic.

Merlin glanced to the door, his arm outstretched, and deeming it safe, he put one of his small hands on the boy's. He didn't know why he did at first. He figured it was probably because he felt sorry for him, being all alone, having a bad dream, and Merlin didn't like to watch pain.

Pain was horrible. Evil. It was all the bad words he could think of.

So he did the only thing he knew how. He helped. This boy reminded him of Will when Merlin had made him trip and hit his head and sleep for days with a fever from infection. Merlin's hand closed around the one that was paler than even his and squeezed. He felt the burning inside of him rage for a moment and then come to his eyes, and before Merlin knew it, it was he who was gasping and struggling for breath. Again.

The boy on the bed was still, his hand now longer tingling under Merlin's.

Merlin swayed. The pain in his stomach was back again, and that loud voice that bounced off the walls was back, too, and it was outside of the door he had partially closed.

* * *

><p>There was a huddled up form in Gaius' favourite chair, one which he hadn't thought that he would ever see again if he were entirely honest. She had barged in just as unceremoniously as Sir Baethan had done not two hours ago, inviting herself into his quarters without so much as a word, and had sat herself in the chair he had been using to doze in while waiting for the herbs to infuse with the ale—the cordial mixture, for Arthur.<p>

"H-Hunith?" he'd managed to choke out when she had pulled the dirty tunic that was too big for her up to her mouth and groaned into it in apparent frustration.

"Gaius," she replied when she'd finished with her outburst, and she sounded relieved, of all things!

Through his disbelief, Gaius was confused.

"I don't believe it!" he cried, just in case it wasn't clear. "What on_ Earth _are you doing_ here?"_

"Fancied a chat," she snapped shortly, and Gaius frowned—it was so out of character. "Oh, Gaius, I'm sorry," she amended quickly as she finally met the gaze of her friend. "Oh, Gaius..."

He didn't have to be told. Gaius dragged a small stool from underneath his desk and sat on it, grasping Hunith's worn hands in his own. "What's happened, Hunith? Tell me."


	4. IV

**Disclaimer: **I've said it before and I'll say it again: I own three Merlin box sets. That's all.

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><p>Hunith explained it all so fast that in his growing age, Gaius had a hard time keeping up.<p>

"Say the last part slowly," the physician said in the same slow tone, because he was almost as confused as he had been when Hunith had first announced herself by barging in while he was working in the dead of night.

Hunith's shoulders tensed, but she nodded and began to repeat herself, almost as if she were trying to convince herself that the same story was true. "Matthew was trying to get us some seeds for the next harvest, because of the drought... we lost a lot of food. Gaius, we'll go hungry eventually, and we have very little money, but... we managed to scrape enough, barely... and the Druids were at the market... he heard... his past... Oh, help."

Gaius rubbed his chin. He knew Matthew almost as well as he did Hunith and Balinor. Matthew was somewhat of an ex-Druid. He had been born into a family of sorcerers, but it was clear he did not possess the gift, and he had been forced to leave. Gaius had been the one to find him a place in Ealdor. It had been before he had been made the court physician in Camelot. Ten years ago, almost.

"And Merlin. I had to get him out, Gaius. Matthew – he heard things. Wouldn't you have done the same thing? And now he's wandering about the castle!"

Gaius almost leant back to ponder before realising that he was on the stool, and instead he put his weight onto his knees and met Hunith's wild eyes for the first time. "I would have done the very same. The question is whether you really trust Matthew or not. And... don't worry. We will find Merlin. Listen. No warning bells."

"Yet! Gaius! We need to find him now! He is only six!"

"One minute. Sorry, Hunith. I need to know." The old man sighed. "What they want with Emrys... –"

"GET GAIUS!"

Gaius froze, and even Hunith managed to sit up straight.

For the second time that night, Sir Baethan rushed into Gaius' room, but Gaius was already pushing past the beast of the man without question.

* * *

><p>Merlin found he was becoming angry as he clutched his side, both through the pain he had caused himself and in annoyance that the big mouth on the other side of the door didn't care enough for this boy to come in and check that he was okay.<p>

Didn't he have anyone, like Merlin had his mother?

The big mouth was still laughing about something, but there was someone else with him, and they passed by the door, their voices becoming nothing as they rounded a corner, and Merlin frowned because the voices hadn't died away... They'd stopped.

Guards, Merlin concluded. The ones his mother had warned him about, told him to stay away from, because breaking curfew would mean they would never get to her friend called... well, they would never get to her friend if they were caught, and he couldn't help them like she said he would. The guards were being shouted at by an even louder voice that made Merlin's anger fade away and the pain in his side burn like a hot flame.

He quickly glanced at the blonde boy to see if he had stopped dreaming. Noticing he had, it was as if he had been keeping himself up just to have a look and make sure he was sleeping peacefully, because afterwards Merlin fell to the floor and only just managed to wiggle his way under the big bed when Uther Pendragon strode into the room, angrily pushing the door Merlin had closed out of his way.

_He does have someone._

Albeit an angry someone whose feet were only visible to Merlin, but it was someone all the same. It had to count, right?

The dark-haired boy winced as his side continued to sear with hot pain, and he curled in a tight ball underneath the bed, trying in desperation to not utter a word and find himself in front of this raging man.

"Arthur?"

He sounded scared, now. Not angry. Merlin wondered if maybe it would be okay to cry out in pain. He closed his eyes and tried to stop hurting.

"Get Gaius!" the man roared, and Merlin bit on his lip. Definitely not. "Get the court physician! GUARDS!"

Although he was underneath the bed, Merlin was so busy trying to start a new plan to fight off the pain instead of refraining to cry out that he didn't see the mattress dip inches away from his trembling body as the King fell onto it.

* * *

><p>Arthur had slipped away.<p>

Uther cried for the only person he knew how to cry for and clutched at his little boy's bed sheets, somehow only grazing the cold skin.

Only ten minutes ago had he left to find a stupid, ignorant guard who had abandoned his post outside of Arthur's door and demand some more cold water to mop his son's brow with, and now Arthur lay lifeless in front of him. The boy had been fitting in his sleep, whimpering and groaning in pain his father could only imagine while praying Gaius was doing more than brewing a bloody what's-it to 'ease his passing', when Uther found he was dabbing at an empty bowel with a drying towel.

"Arthur... my boy..."

"Sire, move." It was Gaius. "I must tend to him."

Gaius spoke with such authority that even in his grief the King couldn't refuse, but he moved only an inch or so, and Gaius fought back irritable impatience and all but ran to the other side of Arthur's bed.

As he had done so before, Gaius checked underneath the child's eyelids, his forehead and then his pulse and very nearly dropped the thin wrist in shock, forgetting all about the bomb site that was waiting for the physician in his chambers.

There was no pulse. His forehead was stone cold. Arthur was still.

"I don't understand. He was running a fever two hours ago!" Gaius couldn't help but cry out and back away. He had failed. He had failed to even make Arthur's death as easy as possible for the prince, to relieve him of his suffering before he finally passed beyond the void. He was too late. He had failed.

Uther only wailed harder, failing to notice the small foot Gaius had that was poking out from underneath of Arthur's extravagant bed.

_Hunith's boy._

As soon as he had seen it, however, Merlin had pulled back his foot, apparently realising his mistake of stretching out.

In a panic, Gaius mustered the courage the double-check Arthur. His pulse, his temperature, his breathing. There was no pulse. He wasn't hot any longer, and he wasn't breathing.

Arthur Pendragon had died.

And then all of a sudden, the dead boy took a shuddering lung-full of breath, so hard his back arched off the bed and crashed back onto it. Arthur opened his eyes.


	5. V

**A/N: **One of the last updates coming today - fast and furious chapters are catching up with me, and I would really like to make them longer.

Thank you all so much for the reviews, alerts and favourites you all have given me already. You have no idea.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC's _Merlin_.

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><p>The King's jubilant cries and Gaius' astonished protests were giving Merlin a headache. If Gaius had been confused, it was nothing compared to what little Merlin now felt. Merlin didn't know whether to clasp his head or hold his splitting side. The only thing Merlin knew for sure was that the other boy – Arthur, he'd been called – had caused his father to cry and howl and then holler excitedly all within the space of five minutes.<p>

A dozen guards had gathered at the prince's door and were hovering – Merlin could see their feet just as well as he could see the other men's – because Uther's cries had pulled nearly all of them away from their late night posts. Now getting out of here was going to be even more difficult than before, and that he would certainly be in Big Trouble with his mother this time when she found him. If she found him.

"This is in need of a celebration! A feast!" Uther cried euphorically. "Go!" he said, turning to the guards who were crowded around the door. "Let the people know their prince lives!"

The guards, some apparently pleased with their King's sudden good mood in contrast to his snappy outbursts in the hall before, hurried away, dispersing in the dimly lit corridors so quickly that they very nearly tripped. Merlin was sure that one did.

Uther looked to Arthur, who had his eyes closed, and turned to Gaius. "I cannot thank you enough."

"Sire?" Gaius asked hesitantly.

"You saved him. You saved my son. I knew you wouldn't give up – not really. You are too good of a friend to me, Gaius."

"I did nothing, my Lord," Gaius said, caution in his voice as he studied his King carefully.

Uther seemed to study the physician carefully for a long, agonising moment before he nodded sombrely, although the look did not quite reach his eyes. "Of course, Gaius. I know how... conflicting this must be for you. I am forever in your debt. Thank you."

"I did nothing," Gaius said again with wide eyes.

Uther grinned in a way Gaius had not seen for many years. "I understand."

Gaius, sure he was getting nowhere now, merely nodded and clasped his hands tightly for the lack of something better to do. "I think... Sire, I wonder if you would allow me to examine Arthur more closely? He is certainly healing, but he is weak, and I must see to any remedies that may need making to aid his recovery."

The King nodded, ruffled his son's hair, and then punched Gaius on the arm in what he probably thought was something of a grateful gesture on his way out. He walked out of the room in a daze, still grinning broadly, ready to plan and order people about.

Gaius shut the door carefully after waiting for a minute until the King had swaggered off.

He stared unseeingly, his hands still on the wood. Underneath the bed, Merlin was trembling, but he wasn't sure this time whether it was from weariness, tiredness, or the same paralysing fear he had experienced downstairs.

"You can come out now, Merlin."

"I'm not here," Merlin squeaked nervously.

"Now's not the time to be playing silly buggers, Merlin," Gaius said quietly, turning away from the door and staring down at the gap between Arthur's underside of the bed and the floor. It was hard to tell whether the old man was smiling or not.

At least two minutes passed before Merlin pushed himself out from under the bed, half-dazed, his eyes unfocussed and a lopsided smile on his face. He was much too pale, Gaius decided, and had dark, worrying circles under his eyes. The boy could barely stand without rocking.

"Come on," Gaius beckoned, opening the door behind him. "Your mother's worried. It's late. Too late."

"You found her?" Merlin asked, his eyes brighter for a moment.

"More like she found me," Gaius said in a gruff voice. "Come on, boy."

Merlin took a wobbly step forward, and then paused, struggling to find the energy to frown. His side still hurt, but now the commotion had died down somewhat he found his head was better. Clearer – that was the word his mother used. "Aren't you going to check on... on him? Arthur?"

"Huh?"

Gaius stared down at the raven haired boy as if trying to work him out before conceding. He stalked forward, knowing that each second of silence Hunith heard from his quarters was another second he would pay for with his hearing, and confirmed what he already knew – Arthur was asleep, and his temperature was slowly creeping back up to normal, and his breathing was no longer laboured or rasped but steady and clear. He was in perfect health, save for a little exhaustion and dehydration, but Gaius would be back within the hour with a fresh remedy for that.

"See? He's fine."

"You sure?" Merlin asked quietly, peering around unsteadily at the blonde with disbelief in his narrowed eyes.

"I'd bet my life on it. Come on, Merlin. It's you we need to worry about."

Gaius reckoned that he would let the boy sleep and regain his strength before interrogating the lad and his mother.

He helped the slow, exhausted boy down the stairs, who had been defiant he could do it alone until he had nearly fallen flat on his face and then leant into the physician's side and somehow carried himself to the better part of the castle where his mother was waiting for him.


	6. VI

**Disclaimer: **I wish the show was mine (and Merlin himself, for that matter) but it's not.

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><p>It was dawn, and Gaius was tired. He'd had no sleep, and he fervently wished that another night like last night would never happen again. At times he caught himself wishing that last night had never happened.<p>

He was struggling to focus on the arnica he was making for Uther's old battle wound on his shoulder, even though he had been creating it every day for over seven years. It was a simple preparation and it was taking too long to do.

Hunith and Merlin, however, were sleeping so deeply and so peacefully that it almost _was _as if last night had never happened. It was as if they had never crept unnoticed through the lower town and upper quarters and smuggled themselves into the castle and into the court physician's and the prince's room with no effort on their part whatsoever. It was a commendable feat that left Gaius stumped for explanations.

Gaius was never this clueless, and he wasn't used to it. He didn't like it.

Hunith had taken the bed in the next room, and Merlin was curled up on the spare beside the table Gaius was working on. Every so often, Gaius would look down at the small boy who was sleeping with his knees pressed so tightly to his chest and frown, or sometimes he would look just to check that the boy was still breathing. It was a strange feeling that the old man was managing to pass off as justifiable concern – the boy had been through so much in a matter of hours – but deep down, it was much, much more than that.

When Gaius had poured the arnica into a flask after a long struggle, he set it down on the table and stared out of the window behind him. It was hours past dawn.

It was another struggle to decide whether he should wake the boy and his mother or not, and Gaius opted to leave them for just a little longer while he took Uther's flask to him and tried to avoid the King's grateful gaze. It was another reason he still needed to talk to Merlin, because the King thought the physician was responsible for healing his son with magic, when Gaius knew it was the dark-haired boy sleeping in his quarters.

He wanted to know how, and he feared the answers. Merlin was just a _boy_.

The old man could do nothing but shake off his concerns and quietly shut the door as he left his room.

Uther was hollering orders in the kitchen when Gaius finally found him. The cooks and the maids were flustered and panicked at having the King around them, because he _never _bothered to come down and see them, even to complain about the food – that job was always left to one of the guards or a panicking servant who had been serving the King and the prince at dinner.

Nothing had been normal in the past few weeks, and even with the prince miraculously cured from his life-threatening illness, the people were sitting on edge.

Gaius watched with faint amusement as Uther peered over one of the cook's shoulders. "Sire?"

"Gaius!" Uther grinned and came over to his friend, clasping him on the back. He shouted one last thing about cooking everything they had in the palace for later that day and led the physician out of the kitchens and up the old stairs. "Is anything the matter?"

"Your arnica, sire," Gaius said, presenting the flask to the King as he tried to hide all signs of weariness.

"Eh? Oh, right, yes. Thank you."

Gaius had a small urge to ask how the prince was. He had checked in on him a few hours ago, shortly after giving the boy the draught to combat his dehydration and leaving him to sleep, but had stayed with Merlin and Hunith since. He decided not to ask, to save him from many grateful slaps on the back and manic smiles, but Uther brought up the subject anyway.

"Arthur's sitting up, but staying in bed, like you told him to. He managed to keep the soup down."

The physician almost smiled – Prince Arthur sat still for nobody. There was no doubt he was wandering about his room and peering out of the windows, wondering when he could watch new knights on the training fields again, only to jump into bed again and act meek the moment his door was opened.

"He truly is a picture of health," Uther continued. "And to think... he showed all signs of death..."

_He _was _dead, _Gaius thought, but he shrugged his shoulders. "It is a miracle, sire, indeed."

The two men rounded a corner and came into the courtyard, where the morning sun was beating down on them, almost in its own celebration that the prince was alive. Uther turned to Gaius and appeared to observe him intensely for a minute before nodding with one more smile. "That it is," he said.

"If you'd excuse me, sire – I have my early rounds to do, and then I have to check on the inn keeper."

"Of course, of course."

For a moment, Gaius had wondered whether the King was about to inquire about the inn keeper's health, but there were some things that even Arthur's recovery couldn't change, because Uther simply nodded and allowed Gaius to be on his way.

Gaius traipsed back to his quarters, half expecting to see Merlin poking about through his life's work and the old books on the shelves, but when Gaius came through the door, the sheets had been pulled back and there was no little boy in the room. Deep frown lines creased the man's forehead, and he passed the empty bed and climbed the few stairs that led to Hunith.

Merlin was in the same tight ball he had been this morning, wedged into his mother's side, and Gaius would have smiled somewhat fondly and left mother and son to it if it hadn't been for the muffled, child-like sobs coming from Merlin and realising that after a second glance, Hunith was not in fact sleeping.

The woman's skin was as deathly pale as Arthur's had been 24 hours ago, and she was spread on her back in the most awkward position. The sheets were off her, but Gaius briefly thought before rushing over to her that it could have been Merlin.

Gaius had a nasty feeling in his throat as he picked up the woman's wrist and placed it gingerly back down on the mattress again. He put two fingers on her throat, and then a hand over her chest, and sighed.

He should have seen this coming. How could he have been so _stupid?_

"Merlin..."


	7. VII

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Merlin_. I wish.

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><p>The Old Religion could not allow a life to be saved without another being taken in its place. Arthur's life had been saved, but it had been at the cost of Hunith's.<p>

Merlin could not be told. A tiny six-year-old boy who was unaware of the true extent of his powers could not be told that by unknowingly saving Prince Arthur's life, he had caused his mother to die. He hadn't known that Arthur had been hours from death.

And Gaius couldn't even ask Merlin about it, because Merlin had become depressive and withdrawn. When he wasn't sitting on the stool watching Gaius with lifeless eyes or following Gaius like a lost puppy, he was lying on his side on the bed his mother had taken the night they had arrived pretending to be asleep.

"I touched his hand," had been uttered by Merlin in a small, cracked and frightened voice when asked by Gaius what he had done to Arthur, but that had been two days ago. Now, Merlin spoke to nobody.

It had been three days since Hunith's death.

When questioned on the body being removed from his quarters, Gaius had managed to convince Uther that an old friend had come seeking him for help, but before he was able to administer a cure, she had died, leaving him with her son. Uther had been none too pleased, even with being in high spirits after the celebratory feast; the King could not afford to have his court physician tied down at his expense, but Gaius had insisted the boy had nowhere to go until word reached his hometown and somebody came for him.

Uther's court physician had sent word, but he had no intentions of releasing the boy into another's care. Not yet. Not now. He also had no intentions of revealing Hunith's reasons for coming to Camelot in the dead of night with her son, and he certainly had no intentions of revealing that the boy possessed a unique gift of magic.

Gaius also absolutely refused to let Merlin out of his sight. When Gaius did his rounds, Merlin came with him. When Gaius went into the lower towns to help the people of Camelot, Merlin came with him. When Gaius went to collect supplies, Merlin came with him. Gaius just didn't know what he would do when the next council meeting was called, because under no circumstances would Uther allow the boy to be present, even if his mother had just died.

He was in a quandary, so he did what he did best when he didn't have answers. He read his books.

When Merlin was pretending to be asleep in the next room, leaving Gaius alone, Gaius pulled out his books and he read. He read and researched myths and he racked his brains for knowledge he already held to either support or demolish the theory. He pulled out the old book of magic he had hidden in the depths of his room and read Druid legends and facts of the Old Religion, skimming over spells and ancient words to find only the most important of information, but despite every book, he couldn't find anything about why Hunith had died instead of Merlin, or how Merlin had cured Arthur by a simple touch of his hand.

On the fourth day since Hunith's death, Merlin emerged from the back room and tugged on Gaius' robes to ask something, all but giving the man a heart attack. In his surprise, Gaius threw a bowl with a white, powdery mixture inside of it that he'd been working on into the air above them.

After Gaius realised that he hadn't heard a shattering sound, he turned to Merlin to find the child staring intensely up at the bowl which was suspended in mid-air. Gaius was in the middle of his second heart attack when the bowl lowered itself onto the table and he saw that the white powder was still inside of it.

"How... – Merlin!"

"I'm sorry!" he yelped.

"How did you do that? Tell me!"

With wide, frightened and wet eyes, Merlin stared up at Gaius and knew he was in Big Trouble.

On that fourth night since Hunith's death, Gaius resolved to see the Great Dragon.

The walk to the cave beneath Camelot was a feeling to rival that of finding Merlin with Hunith's dead body. Getting past the guards by the dungeons had been no problem – it was talking Kilgharrah that was going to be the problem. Gaius was almost sure he would be burnt to a crisp, but he had done everything to ensure that this trip was the last resort.

He stretched the burning torch out in front of him and tried to see through the darkness of the cave, ignoring the fact that it had been the first time in four days he had been without Merlin. "Hello?"

Gaius cleared his throat as if to make his presence known – like it was going to make a difference – and lowered the torch.

"Kilgharrah? Please."

There was violent gust in the murky cave, and the torch flickered dangerously. Gaius held his forearm over his eyes, waiting for the wind to die down, and when he allowed himself his sight back, Kilgharrah was glaring down at him almost murderously.

"You have grown old."

Gaius couldn't even clear his throat it was so dry. "A lot can happen in six years," he rasped.

The Great Dragon settled on the large stone, pulling his scaly head back and folding his large wings in. "So it can. Why have you come after all this time?" he demanded angrily. The sound reverberated off the cave's walls and it hurt the physician's ears.

"A boy cured Arthur Pendragon of an illness he should be dead from."

Kilgharrah was still.

Gaius held his gaze, knowing he had the dragon's attention. "He saved him with a touch of his hand."

"A druid boy?" the dragon asked.

"No. His name is Merlin, he comes –"

"Emrys."

"You _know_ of him?" Gaius asked loudly, his expression dumb as his mouth hung open. It was how he had looked at the time Hunith had told him why she had come to Camelot.

"He is my kin! Of course I know of him, old man! The prophecies spoke of Emrys long before even you were born!"

As Kilgharrah roared, stretching his wings and his body high, Gaius' grip on the torch was enough to give him splinters, but still, he barely flinched. He knew the dragon did not particularly care for him. He probably hated him as much as he hated Uther Pendragon, but Gaius needed answers, and it was not in the old man's nature to run away.

"What do these prophecies say?"

"The Prince and Merlin are one, old man. Some say they will become an extension of one another – that they are two sides of the same coin. Together, they will unite Albion and bring the kingdoms under one High King. It will be Arthur Pendragon himself, but the Pendragon boy cannot do this without Merlin."

"Merlin's just a child, too!"

"For now. He is a boy with extraordinary power. He is one of a kind," the Great Dragon announced mightily. "He is Emrys, after all."

His head buzzing, Gaius had a vague thought that the conversation had taken a different direction than planned and sensing the man's apparent dilemma, The Great Dragon huffed hot smoke that forced Gaius to hold the torch away from him again and sat back. "Or did you not really come for the boy?"

"I did. He saved Arthur, but his mother died."

"You have served my captor too long, Gaius. You have not forgotten the ways of the Old Religion?"

"No," Gaius barked. "But surely the one to die should have been Merlin?"

"You would have preferred it that way?" Kilgharrah demanded. "You would have preferred the woman to live?"

Gaius sighed and lowered the hot torch. "That's not a fair question."

"You asked," the Great Dragon snapped back horribly as if the man were stupid, and Gaius was sure that he was almost laughing as he said it. "Merlin _is _magic. Magic _is_ Merlin," Kilgharrah continued. "The boy may not have known what he was doing but he did so to save a boy he didn't know, and at a terrible cost. He did the right thing. He did what he is meant to do."

"He won't understand that, and I certainly won't tell him!"

The Great Dragon dipped his head. "Then don't, but know this: the boy will learn either way. I have told you that he is one of a kind, as am I. We are creatures of magic – kin. He has a long journey ahead of him, and he will learn many things. His destiny has already begun, and it is entwined with Arthur Pendragon's."

"Destiny?"

"Haven't you been listening?"

"I've listened."

He turned on the Great Dragon and made his way to head out of the cave, when the dragon roared and forced him to stop.

"Heed my words, old man! Listen! Do not turn a blind eye on the boy as you have on me until this day. I will not stand for the boy to be alone. Arthur can only simply lie and dream to become a king without him."

Gaius, still with his back to the dragon, sucked in a large breath and carried himself out of the cave, feeling just as conflicted as he had beforehand, if not more so.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The longest chapter yet!

I hope the conversation with the Great Dragon wasn't too confusing, and some things were cleared up. I deliberately left some things out. It was hard to write.

Thank you for your reviews! As ever, comments for improvement are welcome.

Nik


	8. VIII

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own a poster of _Merlin_, let alone the series... though if you want to get me one, please, feel free.

* * *

><p>When Gaius crept through the door the first thing he saw was Merlin sitting cross-legged on the table with his head pressed into his palms.<p>

"You left," the little dark-haired boy murmured dejectedly into his hands. Gaius didn't know whether Merlin was purposefully refusing to let their eyes meet.

"I'm back now," he replied hesitantly, closing the door behind him.

Gaius was inexperienced with children. He spoke frequently with Arthur and sometimes with the little girl, Morgana, when she visited with her father Gorlois, and other than that, the most he spoke with children were when their parents in the upper quarter and lower towns called upon him because they were hurt, or sick, but Arthur had Uther to depend on and Morgana, too, had her father. The children in the villages and houses surrounding the citadel also had someone to care from them.

Merlin didn't.

The boy lifted his head and let his hands fall lamely into his lap, and he stared at the old man's feet as he asked, "Where did you go?"

Gaius leant back a little. "Well, I... You were asleep," he said, and then realised that it probably hadn't been the best thing to say, because it sounded as he had been trying to sneak out and leave Merlin. The boy didn't know any better; he'd probably thought that Gaius had been leaving him for good. It explained his red, swollen eyes and the cracked stool that was lying in half on the floor underneath the table.

It then dawned on Gaius that he was now the person this child depended on.

"I didn't mean to break it," Merlin whispered hurriedly after noticing on a quick, chance glance up to the physician that the man was eyeing the broken wood.

"Don't worry," he said with a dismissive wave and a shake of his head. "Come on. Bed."

Merlin jumped down from the table and stared expectantly up at the man. It seemed that Gaius' conversation with him had finished for the night.

"Bed," he repeated.

The child's shoulders slumped and he turned reluctantly towards the stairs with Gaius following him closely, his hand hovering at the back of Merlin's head to urge him on.

Gaius had never sent a child to bed before, but Merlin seemed to be able to do enough for himself. He climbed in between the sheets wordlessly and burrowed his head into the pillow, wriggling slightly before bringing his knees to his chest as he usually did.

"Well. Good night, then," Gaius said after a while, retreating to the door. He was about to close it when he looked back and saw that Merlin was sitting up and was now staring at him with his mouth open, almost as if he had something to say. Gaius watched, waiting, but Merlin pressed his lips together, put his head back down onto the pillow and wrapped his arms around his knees.

As the following day wore on, Gaius noticed more and more how he had become the person Merlin depended on. He hadn't paid attention before.

When Merlin had woken up, the first thing he had done was rush out of the room, and upon seeing Gaius sitting at the table reading, his worried face calmed and he'd nodded stiffly before stepping back into the room. _His _room.

When Gaius made his morning rounds, Merlin had walked closely by his side, and he only nodded or shook his head at people when they asked him questions after he had looked to Gaius (who was usually tending to patients) for him to nod himself and permit it first. It turned out that he almost always asked permission to do something – even to eat. However, he never spoke. He hadn't spoken since the night before when he had thought Gaius had left him.

Gaius even noticed it when he was at his table preparing draughts, antidotes, or the King's arnica, or even just reading. Merlin just sat in the corner and watched the old man carefully and silently and only moved when he moved.

It was later that afternoon on the fifth day since Hunith's death that Uther called the council to convene and Gaius had no choice but to leave Merlin.

Arthur Pendragon was officially allowed out of bed.

After a silent, guilty farewell, Gaius had found the King and together they had gone to Arthur. Gaius had checked Arthur's temperature and watched him carefully as he ate one half of a sandwich, and then he'd nodded his approval.

"It's been just under a week," he said, "and you've been keeping your food down, so I don't see any reason why not. Try walking, sire."

Arthur had all but leapt out of bed and pranced about the room, but he was smart enough not to; he knew that he should have been in bed until Gaius had told him otherwise, and he was going to let the adults think that he had done as he had been told – not that he'd actually been secretly going to his window or drawing on the large desk or that he'd even been out of bed at all.

Gaius could tell, though. Arthur's knees didn't wobble and he had no trouble finding his bearings as he walked deliberately slowly back and forth from the window to his father and the physician. It was a good act.

"It seems you've a clean bill of health."

Uther clapped his hands and beamed. "Excellent!"

Arthur returned the smile.

"Come," Uther said. "The council are waiting."

"Yes, sire."

Gaius bowed to Arthur, remembering his manners which had been so poor in the past few days, and turned to Uther who led the way out of the room and to the lords and knights in the large council chamber who were waiting for their arrival. Gaius knew he'd only gotten away with it because Uther believed he had cured his son.

"Thank you, Gaius!" Arthur called from the window, and Gaius bowed once more with a smile on his face before leaving. At seven years old, Arthur Pendragon had better manners than the old physician and Uther put together.

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><p><strong>AN: **I've had some messages asking about the title of this FanFiction. 'Ambrosius' is the Latin translation of the Welsh name 'Emrys', and I'm going to incorporate this into the story sometime in the future, but honestly? I just fancied some originality. I didn't feel 'Pendragon and Emrys' would be appealing enough, somehow.

Thank you, again, for all your kind words. It's only been a few days, but it's what spurs me on.


	9. IX

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for coming," Uther said as he strode into the large council chamber. He took his place at the head of the table and nodded at the other men in acknowledgement.<p>

"Sire," they all murmured in unison, their heads bowed respectfully.

Uther gestured towards them lazily. "Sit, sit."

All of the men settled into their chairs. Gaius, who had been trailing behind the King, took his place opposite Sir Baethan at the middle of the table. Until a few years ago, the old man had usually stood at the side of Uther's chair, hovering uselessly, until he'd been made a permanent member of the council. He now sat with the lords and knights of Camelot. It was a great honour that reflected the King's utmost trust in him.

It was he who first noticed the absence on Uther's right. It was where Gorlois usually sat.

"Vivienne has been taken ill," the King said shortly, answering the unspoken question. "I'm told it's not serious. All the same, Gaius, if you could..."

"Yes, sire."

"Good. Now." Uther leant back in his chair, studying the lord and knights before him. "Arthur is back on his feet, but the reason we have convened much earlier than originally planned is that his illness was something unheard of – something completely unnatural. It was caused by magic."

Uther, as he usually did after dropping the bombshell, paused and allowed his disapproval to sink in for a moment.

"I am aware there has been talk of the Druids," he continued. "Who was the first to report this?"

The men looked amongst each other for a moment, almost as if they were daring one another to speak first.

"Well?" Uther demanded.

"Me, sire," Sir Rowan said after a dramatic clear of his throat. He appeared either very annoyed or scared to have to be the one to deliver the news. "There has been talk of Druids in the lower town, but not directly of the Prince's illness – the people are speaking of the renegade Druids, sire."

"And do these _renegade_ Druids have a part in Arthur's illness?"

Sir Rowan shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. "We're unsure. The Druids are supposedly speaking of a sorcerer who will unite the lands and bring peace among them. From what the traders told us, the renegades intend to thwart this and use the sorcerer to bring destruction instead. We don't know if this is in connection to the Prince."

"Peace?" Uther scoffed. "Where exactly did you hear of this?"

"During our daily patrol of the market, sire. The traders from the outlying villages always bring fresh news for the townspeople to gossip about. It spreads like wildfire."

The chamber was silent, and Sir Rowan seemed to withdraw into his seat and hope that he wouldn't have to relay any more news. He was one of the newest members of the council – a trustworthy, courageous man – but still, it seemed, anxious about standing up to the King and being the one to bring bad news. He didn't like being thrust into the spotlight so early on.

Uther on the other hand appeared livid, and he was staring at Sir Rowan with such intensity that it was no wonder the knight was trying to mould himself into the chair.

"Why did you not come to me about this sooner?" the King asked haughtily. It was to the whole council now.

"The Prince, my Lord." It was Sir Argyn who spoke up. "He had only just been taken ill."

"But that was almost two weeks ago!" Uther bellowed.

"My Lord, we did an extensive search of the oldest inns and several houses which were already under suspicion of consorting with Druids, but we were only following leads created by gossip. No man could pinpoint a source of these tales or confirm the rumours."

"I want you to search again. I want these Druids found. Do what you must – give out my order to all those involved."

"The Druids are a peaceful people, sire," Gaius interrupted. "I fear we only have to focus on these renegades Sir Rowan speaks of."

"Any kind of Druid is a threat, Gaius," Uther snapped. "I take no chances when it comes to my kingdom or my son."

"Yes, sire," Gaius said, and it was with a sort of irritable impatience that had Uther grinding his teeth. Only Gaius ever dared speak to the King like he was ignorant, but even he was smart enough to do it subtly. "Though the renegades appear to be the threat here. The Druids – the peaceful ones – they live deep in the forest and keep to themselves."

"They have magic, Gaius. Nobody with magic is peaceful. You know this."

Gaius gave up and simply bowed his head, thinking of the little raven-haired boy who was waiting for him in his chambers and the conversation he'd had with his mother. The King was seemingly being informed of the same rumours Matthew had told Hunith, if not more diluted ones. Gaius only hoped the knights had no more news to go on and that they would find nothing else. Merlin could not be found and used for the renegade Druid's own purpose, nor for the ones who immersed themselves in the forest. He was not old enough to make the decision for himself and know the difference between such life-changing wrongs and rights.

"Have there been rumours of Druids in Camelot other than those already under suspicion?"

"None, my Lord," Sir Baethan said when nobody else spoke up. The tall man scratched his chin, the sound of friction against his stubble making the hairs on Gaius' arms stand up. "It's only talk. We searched for as long as we knew we were permitted to at the time."

"Search again," Uther commanded once more.

"Yes, sire."

* * *

><p>Arthur was at a loss to decide what he should do with his freedom.<p>

Going to the training field had been a good idea until he'd realised that all of the best knights were in a meeting with his father, and watching new knights only barely managing to parry five or six blows against the more experience knight got boring after a while, even if the new men did fall to the ground and injure themselves. Sometimes it got to a point where even the young prince would announce that he could do better, and he'd only held a sword once or twice.

Everything turned out to be a lot less fun now he was allowed to do stuff and that he didn't have to sneak about anymore.

Arthur pulled on a white shirt and slipped into the leather shoes the servant had left out for him and padded out of his room. It was only when he found himself on the floor below and veering towards the right did he wonder whether Gaius would mind an unexpected visitor waiting for him. Instead of watching the new knights make fools of themselves, Arthur decided that he was bored enough to visit the physician and ask him about the illness he'd recovered from and why his father had been so surprised he was alive. The King was treating him like he was fragile, now. He hadn't before.

Better to be safe than sorry, he guessed. He wanted to know how he'd gotten it and whether anybody else had been sick like him and why his father was giddy with happiness.

So Arthur let himself into Gaius' quarters.

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><p>Merlin decided that he didn't like sitting alone in the chambers while the physician was speaking with the man who could shout, scream, cry, wail and then deafeningly rejoice all in the short space of five minutes. It was a wonder how Gaius hadn't deemed the man unstable.<p>

Maybe being the King of Camelot had something to do with it.

He sighed and, frustrated, he kicked the remains of the stool that was still under the table. He had tried to fix it for Gaius on several occassions, but he didn't know how – it had cracked loudly and hit the floor as soon as Merlin had realised that Gaius was nowhere to be found and panicked, and Merlin was sure that it wasn't likely to fix itself the next time he lost control. It didn't seem to work like that.

He had nothing to do, and he wasn't used to sitting in silence, not since _that _day.

Merlin hadn't done much since then. He'd stayed with Gaius and kept quiet. He hadn't seen many other people. He hadn't seen the other boy called Arthur since _that _day, either. Gaius had told him that he was the Prince, which had both surprised and upset Merlin further.

He'd been surprised because the other boy had been so ill and alone in bed and because he was having nightmares. Merlin didn't know what could have been so bad that made someone like the Prince have bad dreams.

He'd been upset because his mother had specifically told him to stay away from the royals because they were Bad People who did Bad Things and wouldn't like him very much because he was special. He'd disobeyed her.

Gaius told him a lot of things. He spoke a loud and explained stuff even though he'd get no response. He spoke about people who also had magic and creatures that had wings, and he told him about antidotes that could cure illness and draughts that could help people sleep when they couldn't. He told him about the King and his son and about the knights who protected the kingdom. Gaius liked to talk. Or maybe, Merlin wondered, Gaius was just trying to get him to talk back and stop being mute.

Sometimes he'd ask questions of his own in the middle of his explanations. About how Merlin knew magic, and whether he knew how to read, or if he said some things that were called 'incantations' in his head or whispered them quietly. Sometimes Merlin would shake or nod his head in response. Sometimes he'd just stare back and wait for the old man to start talking again.

It was what Merlin had done when Gaius had announced he had to leave. He'd just stared back and watched the man go after he'd repeated how sorry he was and how quickly he would be back and how he wanted Merlin to stay exactly where he was and not get into trouble.

Gaius didn't need to worry. There was nothing for Merlin to do to get into trouble over. In his annoyance, he picked up the pieces of the broken stool and thought hard as he studied them, trying to get them to merge together with his magic so the physician could have his stool back. It wasn't working, though, and Merlin didn't know how to bring up his magic to do it.

There was nothing for him to do to get into trouble over. Nothing at all, apart from the fact the Prince his mother had warned him against was staring at him with wide eyes, probably wondering why Merlin was holding each half of a broken stool in his hands.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So it's happened - they've met!

The question is, where do we go from here?

I've got a pretty good idea, and I already know how this is going to end (and perhaps leave room for a sequel) but I'd love to know your thoughts and what you think so far.

Nik


	10. X

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin, and I love 'em for it.

* * *

><p>The two boys stared at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. Their eyes were wide and disbelieving, but Merlin's had an added hint of fear to them that Arthur misunderstood as one of being caught in the act. Finally, the Prince blinked a few times and gaped dumbly, his eyes going back and forth from the wood to the pale face across the room. "Who are <em>you<em>? Did _you _break that?" he demanded incredulously.

Without warning, Merlin dropped the pieces of the stool like they were hot coal. He shook his head fervently and lowered his gaze as the splintered wood clattered loudly against the hard floor.

"I won't tell," Arthur promised. His expression of disbelief had first turned to pure awe in thinking this boy could split wood with his bare hands, and now it was full of vague amusement as he watched Merlin continue to shake his head like a toddler. "You can tell me," the Prince urged, "and then you can teach me! You won't get in trouble if you're with me. Gaius won't mind."

As Arthur babbled, Merlin nudged the broken wood away from him with the tip of his foot as if it were dangerous and really would get him into a lot of trouble.

"What's wrong? Are you lost?" Arthur asked.

Petrified to the core, Merlin was still shaking his head. It had almost become an automatic reflex over the last few days and Arthur, thinking he was scared because he was the Prince, simply grinned at the other's expense and delighted in the fact he'd found someone his own age.

"Do you _live _here?"

Merlin looked to the door where Arthur was standing, finally meeting his stare. "No," he mumbled. Arthur nearly had to ask him to repeat himself.

"Oh!" Arthur exclaimed, his eyes becoming wide again as he put it together in his head. "You're from outside of the castle, aren't you? Are you sick then?"

Merlin frowned. "No," he mumbled again.

"Is your mother sick?" Arthur asked.

There was a pause but the Prince thought nothing about it, nor of the way Merlin was refusing to look at him again.

"Gaius is in the council chamber," Arthur announced proudly, apparently pleased to be able to inform Merlin of this and not have to be the one to be told everything for once.

Merlin's eyes were pulled back to the floor, the boy becoming more anxious by the second. He shuffled as Arthur left the doorway and came over to him.

"I dunno when he'll be back. You'll have to wait until he can help you."

"S'ok."

"I won't tell him you broke the stool," Arthur promised earnestly, standing in front of Merlin now. He bent down to pick up the two halves of the wood. "Do you think I could break it again?"

Merlin shrugged.

Arthur held out the pieces to the smaller boy before him. "Can you show me?"

"Can't."

Arthur's face fell. "Why not?"

Merlin's blue eyes found Arthur's and he shrugged yet again.

"Please?"

When Arthur realized he was going to get no response – again – his outstretched arms fell and he frowned angrily.

"I can do it," he declared defensively. "You don't think I can, do you?"

Merlin couldn't help but shake his head; mainly because he didn't know what else to do and because he knew that the Prince didn't possess magic.

"I can!" the Prince shouted loudly, his seven-year-old self becoming increasingly annoyed. "I swear I can if you stop standing there like an idiot and you showed me!"

Merlin stared at the Prince in the same lifeless way he usually stared at Gaius when he was speaking.

"Why won't you talk?"

The dark-haired boy's shoulders rose and fell and his eyes shifted to the door. Arthur watched them as they turned pleading in his fright, and then it hit him that the boy was looking at someone.

It was Gaius. "Sire?"

"Gaius!" Arthur cried.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask about why I was ill… and stuff… why…" he said with a quick glance back to Merlin and a point of his finger. "I was gonna wait for you, but _he_ was already here."

Gaius looked over the blonde hair of the Prince to the trembling mess behind him. "Merlin? Are you okay?"

Merlin's head bobbed and Gaius recognized it as the boy's immediate reflex reaction; it had become almost a type of safety blanket for Merlin. Gaius turned his attention back to Arthur, who was looking indignant.

"_Merlin_? He doesn't speak much, does he?"

"I'm afraid not, sire," Gaius sighed, noticing the wood Arthur was holding in either of his hands.

Arthur dropped the stool in the same unceremonious fashion Merlin had done, acting like nothing had happened. Gaius went along with the boy's pretense and walked into his chambers.

This was new. It had been a learning curve trying to deal with Merlin 24-7, but two boys between the ages of 6 and 7 was taking some extra adjustment.

"So what would you like to know, sire?" Gaius asked as he passed them.

"Well – er – I think he – Merlin – wanted you first. I think his mother's sick."

Gaius cast a curious glance towards the back of Merlin's head, who was hovering by the table stoic and silent with his fists balled tight. "Merlin lives here, sire," the old man told the Prince casually.

"He said he didn't!" Arthur said with in same indignant tone he had used previously.

"He's staying here with me – for now, at least, until we can figure out what's going to happen."

"What _is _going to happen?" Arthur inquired nosily.

Merlin was now positively trembling by now. If he hadn't been scared then, he more than certainly was now. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave Gaius and go back to Ealdor without his mother. He didn't want to go back to Will and see him with his parents and feel lost. He wanted to stay.

Gaius moved from the bookshelf with three heavy books in his arms and he spread them on his table before clumsily patting Merlin's head reassuringly. He had decided that he would have to confirm Vivienne's symptoms and before he visited the house of Gorlois. Uther wouldn't stand for time wasters.

"That's what we're going to figure out," Gaius murmured distractedly, opening the largest book he had pulled from the shelf.

"But _why_?"

Gaius pulled his glasses off his nose and pursed his lips thoughtfully before answering, and all he could come up with was something irrelevant and confusing. "Merlin's village is a long way from Camelot."

Merlin had been standing quietly at the head of the table, his fists balled tightly as he shook and tried to keep the warmth of his magic under lock and key. It was hard to believe that this boy who had been fitting and having nightmares almost a week ago was being so nosy and annoying.

"Why is he here then?"

"She died," Merlin whispered brokenly.

"… Who?" Arthur asked. His voice had suddenly become quiet and timid, too.

Gaius had to take a second to swallow his surprise. Merlin hadn't said a word in days, and now he was freely telling Arthur his mother had died. It was quite a turn of events, and Gaius couldn't help but think back to his conversation with the Great Dragon. "His mother, sire. That's why Merlin is staying with me."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Gaius came around the table and lay a hand on Merlin's shoulder, almost protectively.

Arthur moved nervously. "Sorry, Merlin."

"S'ok," Merlin whispered.

"Um. I'll come back later."

And then Arthur Pendragon darted from the room so quickly that Gaius was trying not to laugh about the fact Merlin had succeeded in making a royal guilty – despite his young age. The old man was baffled. Arthur had made Merlin talk and Merlin had made Arthur make a hasty exit out of the room.

"You're talking now, huh, Merlin?"

Merlin turned to the physician. Annoyingly, he shrugged. Gaius bit back his frustration and vowed to get the Prince back into his chambers as soon as possible.

"Well," he huffed. "We have to go out soon I'm afraid. We have an errand to run."

The warlock nodded and made to leave to his room.

"Oh, and Merlin?"

Merlin hesitated on the steps and looked back to Gaius.

"What you said to Arthur about this not being your home, you do know you don't have to go back to Ealdor, don't you? You can stay here. With me, I mean," he added. "I'm sure we can… Well, we can make Uther see sense."

For the first time in five days, Merlin smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm still unsure about this chapter. I tweaked and rewrote it and then tweaked it again until I finally admitted that I wasn't going to get any further.

Since this chapter was added, I've also cleared up the confusion on whether Arthur had caught Merlin using magic - which, for the record, he didn't; he was under the impression Merlin had snapped the wood with brute force. Yeah. I'm just gonna add a massive 'LOL' here.

Thank you once again for all your reviews, favourites, alerts and kind comments. I do try not to sound soppy about it but you guys really are the best.

Nik


	11. XI

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin.

* * *

><p>With the retreating form of Arthur on his mind, Merlin obediently followed Gaius to the House of Gorlois.<p>

"You'll like him," Gaius said conversationally as they walked out of the courtyard, "he has a daughter – just a little older than you, Merlin – and his wife is very kind."

But having a daughter and a nice wife didn't mean that he would like him, the little warlock thought, and he resumed wondering about the blonde prince who he'd broken his silence for. Merlin wasn't sure who had been more wrong – his mother, who had warned him against messing with royals because they were Bad People, or Gaius, who had said that Arthur was a little mystery. Merlin didn't think Arthur was a Bad Person, but neither did he think Arthur was some sort of mystery. He had been nosy and demanding, and that said enough about him, but being nosy and demanding didn't make someone a Bad Person, did it?

"Anyway, nearly there," Gaius said, his arms laden with a basket which had a draught for Vivienne and several herbs and empty flasks inside of it. They were to collect more supplies once Gaius had treated the woman.

Merlin stumbled and held onto Gaius' robes as they walked, struggling to keep up in the large crowds, but as they headed into the most privileged area of the upper quarters, the crowds lessened and the amount of guards on duty increased. Merlin then realised he was hugging himself to Gaius even more. There were some strange hooded figures about, and they reminded him too much of travelling to Camelot with his mother.

"Gaius," Gorlois uttered in a relieved breath when he opened his door. Gaius had barely had to knock.

"The King said I was to see to the Lady Vivienne," Gaius announced, inclining his head politely. "How is she?"

"Come in, come in."

"Come on, Merlin. I hope you don't mind," the physician added to the knight, mindful of the fact that Gorlois was both Uther's best friend and that he held a higher position in the court than Gaius.

"No, no, Uther has already informed me of the situation," Gorlois said as he shut the door behind Gaius and the small boy. "I assume you are still waiting for someone to come for him?"

Gaius nodded as his hand curled on the back of Merlin's shoulder. It had become one of his own reassuring, reflex reactions when he knew Merlin was about to start questioning his place in Camelot. It had been both a gift and a worry to find that, even after the message he had sent to Matthew and the vow to keep Merlin in his care, nobody had come from Ealdor. "It seems something has delayed them."

"Unfortunate," Gorlois said distractedly as if it were a great inconvenience to the man and felt a great sympathy for him.

Despite knowing Gorlois hadn't mean it spitefully Gaius knew better than to correct the warrior and instead he motioned deeper into the large house. "Shall I…?"

"Yes," Gorlois said, snapping out from some reverie. "Just through here. You know the way…"

"I'll be back in a moment, Merlin. Stay here."

Merlin gave a small jerk of his head, avoiding the stare of the big man named Gorlois with the daughter and nice wife who had been peering at him. Merlin didn't think the man to be particularly nasty, but all the same felt uncomfortable in his presence. If Gaius felt the same, he certainly didn't show it.

The two men left, leaving Merlin to hover uselessly. He heard them murmur in the next room as they moved, their voices buzzing slightly against the walls. For a few minutes, he listened, unable to make out their words. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that was too close to the cramp-like feeling Arthur had given him.

"You're Merlin, aren't you?" a voice said from the stairs, and the boy's head snapped around. A girl of about eight or nine leant against the railing. Long, dark hair framed her slim pale face, and faint shadows hung under her surprisingly bright eyes. Merlin thought she looked even more tired than he felt.

His head jerked in another nod, but he held her searching gaze.

"My father told me about you," she said, coming down the last few stairs with an elegance only someone of high standard could have, even at nine-years-old. "I'm sorry about your mother."

Her voice was laced with genuine concern, despite the own trouble in her family she faced. Merlin couldn't hide his surprise.

"I'm Morgana," she said, straightening herself as she stuck out a hand to him.

Merlin took it, but he let her do the shaking. She felt funny, and she smelt funny, too. She tingled like Arthur had tingled when he reeked of Bad Magic, but this was something differently entirely. He didn't know whether it was her or the house. The feeling confused the warmth inside of him he knew to be his magic, and Merlin just wanted to run.

Morgana smiled, laughing softly as she appraised him. "Are you really going to live with Gaius now?"

The boy nodded, his eyes wide, but for once, they lacked the fear they so often accommodated.

Gaius made his way back through the hall, then. "Hello, Morgana."

"Hi, Gaius," she replied. "I found Merlin."

"Yes, I was just checking on your mother. She'll be fine," he added before the girl could ask. "She just needs to rest for a few more days."

"Thank you, Gaius," Gorlois said from behind the physician. "You were quicker than I thought. Thank the Gods you came prepared."

Gaius bowed low in recognition of the compliment and smiled. "I knew what to look for. We'll take our leave now, I think. Make sure the Lady Vivienne takes the draught twice a day and keeps hydrated. I'll come back in a few days."

"Again, thank you."

"Goodbye, Gorlois. Morgana. Come, Merlin."

"Bye Merlin," Morgana said from beside her father.

Merlin raised his hand ever so slightly and followed Gaius out of the house.

After braving the crowds again and completing a shop for supplies in the market, Gaius and Merlin were back in the court physician's chambers. Merlin was watching Gaius as the old man read after having packed various herbs and liquids away onto his shelves and into his drawers. The old man was very particular about where everything was placed.

Without expecting any response as he had become so accustomed to, Gaius turned a page and said, "Did you like Morgana?"

Merlin shrugged. He was sitting on the stairs to his room hugging his knees, his raven hair sticking up all over the place as if he had been running his hands through it, keeping quiet about what he had felt back at Gorlois' house.

Gaius pushed his spectacles up his nose and sighed, feeling a thousand years old as he closed the book; it was useless for his research. "She's Arthur's friend."

"Will Arthur come back?" the warlock asked quietly.

Gaius, already so used to Merlin surprising him, looked to the boy. "Do you want him to, Merlin?"

"Dunno," Merlin muttered.

"He said he would," Gaius said encouragingly.

"Doesn't mean he will," the small boy said in the same quiet voice.

Gaius nodded pensively and let his arms settle on the armrests. His first conversation with Merlin in days had already ended. "He will, Merlin. He will."

The physician had already seen the beginnings of the destiny the Great Dragon had spoken of, and he had no doubts the Prince would return eventually. After all, Merlin was too interesting to ignore. Arthur would come back to satiate his curiosity, and he knew Merlin would then start the much-needed healing process because of it.

Sir Baethan was becoming skilled at interrupting people. After all but screaming at the guards outside of the dining chambers, he hurried into the large room, the guards on either side of the doors giving him the double-door entrance he was unable to be denied in his haste.

Arthur and his father were sitting at opposite ends of a long table eating their dinner in silence while servants lingered around them waiting for orders when Baethan disrupted them like a violent whirlwind.

King Uther slammed down his goblet and stared menacingly at the knight. "Sir Baethan," he said tightly, "what in Camelot's name do you think you are doing?"

"Sire," the knight gushed, looking to Arthur quickly as he decided whether he should inform the King with his son present. He tried to look apologetic. "A renegade Druid has come forward and claimed responsibility for Prince Arthur's illness."

"Where?" Uther demanded.

Sir Baethan took a deep breath. "Sire, it is… strange. Sire, he took himself to the dungeon of his own accord."

Uther was on his feet in seconds, the goblets and candles and decorations on the table shaking as he pushed himself away from it. "Do not lie to me, Sir Baethan."

"I'm not, sire. He came through the courtyard."

Uther was not as stupid as he looked. "What does he want?"

"An audience with you, sire. He says he will bargain, that he will take you to the Druid camp."

"I do not bargain with sorcerers," Uther spat. "Take me to him."

**A/N:** A brief encounter with Morgana, but I thought I should introduce her. Her mother's illness is nothing – just an excuse. I can't handle anymore character death. Eventually, though, she will disappear, Gorlois will die, and Uther's secret daughter Morgana Pendragon will become his ward.

If you consider that a spoiler, shame on you.

And about the funny feeling Merlin had - Morgana has magic, and it's more than likely Vivienne possesses it as well seeing as her eldest daughter Morgause does, too.

The chapter seems a little rushed with the events, but. Well. Y'know. Let me know what you think! Do that constructive criticism thing you do.

Nik


	12. XII

**Disclaimer: **You all know I don't even own a poster of Merlin, let alone the series - only box sets.

* * *

><p>Arthur was left sitting alone at the table with a plate full of untouched food. His father had been so deep in thought that he hadn't realised his son also seemed to have something on his mind and had lost his appetite. His father was always busy.<p>

"He was even asked to be locked in, Sire," Baethan said.

The King laughed bitterly. "The nerve. Well, come on, hurry up!"

Arthur's head fell onto his balled fist and he stared angrily at the tall, burning candles on the middle of the too-large table that always separated father and son. He didn't even bother to look up as Sir Baethan left hurriedly with his father to go to the dungeons, and he didn't notice a servant suddenly converge on him as soon as the great doors were closed.

"Arthur? Sire, are you unwell?"

The Prince's arm fell and he looked up to the concerned face of a middle-aged woman who had been a part of the castle for as long as he could remember. Brigit always made a point to make sure he ate a good meal and dressed well. "No, 'm fine," he mumbled moodily, "just not hungry."

Brigit frowned. "Are you sure? I can get you something else."

"No. Thank you."

"Well, off with you then," she said, waving her hand dismissively before she collected his plate. Another servant was already wiping down Uther's end of the table. "I'll tell the cooks to leave you out some bread and ham just in case, shall I?"

Arthur nodded absently. Brigit smiled fondly and with a full plate in one hand and his goblet in the other, she bowed and watched the Prince stamp away to his chambers.

Or, so she thought. Arthur was going to the court physician.

* * *

><p>He was a tall man. He had long, greasy brown hair, a broad chin and a long nose and stood in the middle of the dark and dirty cell with a foreboding presence. It was as if he were standing there for his own pleasure; his lips were pressed into a thin smile, like the situation was comical to him rather than terrifying. Unlike many, he wasn't shouting about his innocence the minute the King approached.<p>

Some would have called him impressive. Uther called him stupid.

Uther knew that look. He knew that stance. This man thought that he would be calling the shots and that he had control over his own fate. It was a very good act, Uther thought, and he refused to think otherwise. He owned these cells. He owned this kingdom.

"Stand at the wall," he instructed Sir Baethan, who in turn began directing guards to several points in the dreary dungeons. They moved immediately, silent, slick and precise.

"You have nothing to fear, Pendragon," the long-haired man said.

"Is that right?" Uther said, staring at the man through the cell bars. He might have feared and hated magic, but he wasn't frightened of this supposed renegade Druid. "I should have you executed on the spot."

"Without a fair trial?" the ex-Druid asked with a grim smile. "You aren't as considerate and just as your people believe you to be. But, by all means, please, go ahead."

Uther held his stare. "Fine. You have admitted treason against my son, and therefore you shall pay the price."

"Although, there are some fine details that you have overlooked," the man said over the King with an air to his voice that suggested he was doing nothing but musing to himself. "You will never find the Druid camp. You will never understand why or how your Prince was mere inches from death... –"

"You intend to bring devastation to my kingdom," Uther snapped, cutting across the man. "You intend to hurt my family. You intend to use a mythical sorcerer created from simple fairytales to carry out your so-called plan."

"Oh, Ambrosius is not a fairytale, Pendragon. He is as real as you or I. He breathes the same air. He lives his own destiny. He is in this very kingdom and goes by many names."

Uther stood tall. The man before him chuckled at his show of authority.

"What is your name, sorcerer?"

"Oh, are we on first name terms, now?" he said with the same light, thoughtful tone. "I suppose it doesn't matter. My name is Kane. It is what you can call me anyway, Uther Pendragon."

"I'd rather not," Uther sneered in his anger. Up until now, he had tried to keep himself from running this man through for attempting to kill his son, but his patience was being tried to the maximum.

"Then why ask?"

"A man should not die nameless."

"But I would not die nameless," Kane said, "because I have a name, and because I'm not going to die."

"You will burn," Uther declared, "in accordance with our laws..."

"Your laws, not mine," Kane interrupted cheerfully with a point of his finger.

"... in accordance of our laws against magic, which I have decreed are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself on being a fair and just leader, but you threaten all we have worked for."

"Yeah, yeah. Can we get down to the real business now?"

"There is no longer any 'real business' here," Uther said, turning away from the iron bars.

Kane's face screwed with false deliberation. "Yeah, maybe you're right... only... the Druids also want to use Ambrosius to bring peace to Camelot and unite the lands, where magic will thrive once more, and it will be a sure thing that you will no longer reign. Your destruction will come, Pendragon, and Arthur will take the throne with Ambrosius at his side. Ambrosius needs Arthur, and Arthur needs Ambrosius. That is the ways things have always been, and how they shall always be. I only want to do my part first. I told a little lie when I said you have nothing to fear. You do."

Uther couldn't help but turn back. His cold, hard eyes raked over Kane, taking in his appearance. He was surprisingly clean if you ignored his hair. He wore a fresh, brown hooded cloak over travelling clothes, but no shoes. His hazel eyes shone and they were borderline playful. He still looked extremely amused and absolutely screamed 'Druid' and 'mad'. Mad Druid.

The King concluded that this man was insane beyond reason. Who in their right mind would turn themselves in and send themselves to their own death? Did the man simply want the credit of attempted murder on his son? This man had placed himself in this very cell, but he didn't sound as if he had a death wish. He should have.

"Who is this sorcerer you speak so fondly of?"

Kane's carefree attitude was replaced with a stern expression, and his voice took on an icy edge. "I do not speak fondly of Ambrosius, my people and I only want your reign to end in a more... disturbing way where more chaos will follow. Ambrosius – Emrys – whatever name you choose, he_ will_ help us."

"Once more, you have admitted the intent of treason. You will be executed at dawn."

"I think we're just going around in circles, Uther."

"Very well. Enjoy your last night."

"Oh, I will."


	13. XIII

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin.

* * *

><p>Merlin couldn't help but notice that Gaius was oddly satisfied with himself as he moved about the room. The old man kept raising his eyebrows at him behind Arthur's back as if to say, 'I told you so,' and it was starting to get annoying to the point where Merlin could no longer be angry and had to bite his bottom lip to stop smiling.<p>

"I didn't mean to come when you were eating," Arthur babbled apologetically again for the third time, wringing his hands as he twisted between Merlin and Gaius as they cleared the table together. Merlin was handing Gaius their empty bowls and spoons wordlessly, trying to do anything but look at the Prince because he knew he would think of Gaius and laugh.

"It's fine, Sire, really," Gaius also said for the third time. "We were finished. Have you come back to ask about why you were ill?"

"No," Arthur admitted sheepishly. "Father was called away at dinner. The man he was looking for is in the dungeons."

"Oh, really?" Gaius asked vaguely, trying to conceal his worry and surprise. It was bad news for both of the young boys; Arthur could very easily be placed into mortal danger again, and Merlin was wanted as a weapon for a war that was brewing under their very noses.

"S'pose he'll have him executed," Arthur said with a resigned shrug. "Father won't listen. Never does."

"No, I wouldn't think so, Sire," Gaius admitted begrudgingly, unsure of how he could refrain from talking about such matters with the seven-year-old. No child should have been so used to public executions or the fact that magic was used so frequently against his or her life.

Merlin had paled and was clinging to the spoon so tightly that Gaius had to all but prise it from his little fingers. His mother had told him enough about the executions to be even more frightened of them than he was about the possibility of being sent back to Ealdor, even though Gaius had promised Merlin could stay.

Arthur frowned, having noticed the interaction between Merlin and Gaius as Gaius tried to collect the spoon. "Is Merlin okay?"

"Ask him," Gaius said, desperate for the boy to start talking again. He never knew when their next conversation would happen.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, leaning forward so their faces were mere inches from one another, like he was going to get a better look of the smaller boy so close up.

Merlin forced himself to nod. His eyes were frantic as they flicked between his guardian and the Prince.

"Yeah, he's fine," Arthur said.

Gaius rolled his eyes and began drying the bowls that had held their stew. "It's late, Sire – someone will be looking for you."

"I'm fine too, though, I'm here, aren't I? You're old, and that means you're a grown-up."

"Yes, Sire," Gaius said, "much older than I'd like, I'm afraid."

Arthur nodded as if that settled the matter. "See?"

"You can stay here a little longer, but then you must go, otherwise the King will send a search party for you."

The Prince shrugged. "He won't mind," he replied, trying to appear as if he cared little.

Gaius knew better, but he said nothing and set the now-dry bowl down and pulled a cloth to clean the table so he could sit at it and begin some research on the Druids of old, who once roamed Camelot freely. Uther had commissioned for every book and every scroll and every Druid to be burned, but like Gaius had saved Druids, he had also saved many of their documents.

Arthur's arm snaked around Merlin's shoulders. "How about that?" he asked as he looked down at the smaller boy with a happy grin. "Do you mind if I stay here?"

Merlin stared up at Arthur through his dark lashes. "No," he answered, and he had a smile, too. It was small, but it was there.

Gaius wiped his small dinner table one last time before settling down at it to do his reading. "Did your father say anything else about the man in the dungeons, Arthur?"

"No," the boy said. His mouth formed into a contemplative pout, his arm swinging lazily as it still hung over Merlin's shoulders. "Oh, he did say that he had a 'nerve'," Arthur added, beaming cheekily because he knew that it wasn't what Gaius had meant. "Er – well, Sir Baethan said he went to the dungeon all by himself."

Both Merlin and Gaius frowned at this, but the old physician nodded. Merlin, however, was confused as to why somebody would put themselves into trouble like that. Surely it meant they would die? His mother had told him so!

"What d'ya wanna do, Merlin?" Arthur asked, bored of talking about adult stuff and bringing Merlin out of his thoughts.

"Uh..."

"Where's your chambers?"

Merlin looked dumbly at Arthur.

"You know, your room?"

Shyly, Merlin pointed to the door at the back of the room and Arthur pulled on Merlin's hand and dragged him away. He flew up the stairs with Merlin in his wake and threw open the door.

The cry of shocked surprise and the incessant questions that followed ("You sleep _here_?" and, "How did you fit all of your _stuff_?") allowed Gaius to sit back comfortably in his chair with a smile and truly believe for the first time that Merlin was going to be okay.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Arthur reluctantly left after Gaius had reminded him that somebody was bound to come looking for him, but he'd also promised the boy that he could come back soon on the condition that Arthur wasn't busy learning, whether it was being tutored by Geoffrey of Monmouth, or when he was following his father about the kingdom to learn the ways of a ruler. Arthur had mournfully pointed out that if he was older, he would have had to come and visit much later than planned because if he <em>was<em> older, then he would be allowed to train with the knights, but for the moment, apparently he wasn't old enough to handle a sword. Then, he had heard his father's call for him and had sprinted away excitedly, shouting his goodbyes.

It was almost dark, and there were already several candles burning in the living quarters.

"Why does the King want the man in the dungeons if Arthur got better?" Merlin asked after he had obediently helped Gaius stack away his books.

"He made Arthur very sick by using magic, Merlin. Some people who have magic aren't very responsible and they use it to do evil things."

"Am I responsible?"

"You are _very _responsible," Gaius assured him with a rare affectionate smile. The old man had overcome sky-high hurdles and finally, he was somebody who Merlin trusted wholeheartedly. He, too, cared for the lad.

Merlin, apparently pleased with this compliment, turned a light shade of pink and grinned. He looked away and bit his lip, unused to being shown such affection from someone other than his mother.

It was when Gaius was putting Merlin to bed that the questions began again.

"Gaius... if Arthur got better, why is his father still so angry?"

"Uther doesn't like magic. Your mother did say that to you, didn't she?" he asked as he pulled the sheets over Merlin, who then tucked them around himself while nodding.

"But if he made Arthur ill with magic, how did Arthur get better?"

Gaius, about to blow out Merlin's candle at his bedside, looked to the boy. He appeared to think about something for a moment and then sat on the edge of the bed. "Merlin, do you remember when I asked you what happened when you were in Arthur's room, and you said you touched his hand? When you touched his hand, you made him better with your magic."

"I didn't mean to," Merlin whispered, his eyes large and bright in the candle's warmth. "I thought he was having a bad dream..."

"Arthur is very lucky you helped him."

"Do I have to go in the dungeon now?" Merlin squeaked fearfully.

"No! But keep it a secret, okay? You did a very good thing, Merlin, but you can't tell anybody, not even Arthur, okay?"

"Why not?"

"He might tell his father."

"He wouldn't!" Merlin cried, ashamed to think such things of his new friend.

"Promise me, you won't tell anybody. Only you and I can know what you did."

Merlin was silent for a few seconds before he sighed and brought his knees up to his chest. "I promise."

"Good boy," Gaius said, standing up from his seat on the bed. "You did a very good thing," he reminded Merlin, trying not to think of Hunith. "Remember that, but keep it a secret."

"I promise," Merlin whispered again.


	14. XIV

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin.

* * *

><p>"<em>Merlin<em>..."

The young warlock whimpered and thrashed restlessly in his bed sheets, his already bad dreams being disturbed.

For once, he was spread over the mattress instead of curled up tightly with his knees pressed to his chest. After a few more minutes of fighting his dreams, Merlin became still, fooling anyone who may have been watching that it was finally over. Then, a sudden violent jerk of his foot made him yell, and he was awake.

He was almost sure his knee had collided with his chin; it felt heavy. Bruised. He had dreamt he was falling... falling so far into the unknown darkness... He remembered something had tripped him, forcing his hand to be wrenched out of another's. But whose hand, he didn't know. It had felt little, like his...

"_Merlin_..."

This voice echoed so fiercely in his mind that he was sure it was waking everyone in a ten mile radius.

The first clear thought that came to him was Gaius. Gaius would know what to do, because somebody, calling him, was annoying half of Camelot, and they were beginning to grate on his nerves, too. Gaius would know what was happening.

Merlin slipped out of bed and padded lightly and tiredly across his room, where he threw open the door and searched for Gaius. When he heard the rumbling snore of the old man, Merlin's eyes bulged in disbelief. Gaius was sleeping soundly in his bed by the wall, completely undisturbed. His glasses were not hanging dangerously off his nose as he frantically turned the pages of his books like Merlin had expected.

"_Merlin_..."

Merlin squeezed his eyes closed and held onto the door frame. Now he was awake, the voice was stronger, more focused as it called him... but from how far away? It sounded like it was in the next room, but there was only Gaius.

Knowing not even a bellow from the King could wake the old man, the little warlock pulled his grey travelling cloak down from the peg and clasped it over his neck. After dragging the door to the court physician's chambers to a close, he threw up his hood and scurried down the hallway. He wanted to know what was so important. Gaius wouldn't notice if he left for just a minute...

Merlin hurried, although the guards were easy enough to avoid. He'd had enough experience.

"_Merlin_..."

It was the same deep, fierce sound, but somehow it was more demanding, more impatient. Merlin wanted to call back and tell them that he was coming – wherever they were – but he couldn't figure out how. His magic raged inside of him as he tried, but it never came to his eyes. It felt natural, but somehow kept slipping from his grasp.

He carried on through the castle, waiting to be called again.

Merlin's cloak flapped noisily at his feet as he sprinted past a group of guards who were laughing together as they warmed themselves around a small fire, and he kept going.

"_Merlin_..."

The dark-haired warlock took to the stairs, his blue eyes reflecting in the little moonlight he was leaving behind. He'd have to rely on the torches, now; he wasn't strong enough to carry one, so he would have to stay close to the walls if he even had a chance of seeing where he was going.

Merlin took himself deeper into the castle, noticing that the floors were getting dirtier with every step he took. There was less light to guide the way here, and he was getting scared. He'd done a Stupid Thing and wanted to go back to his room and listen to Gaius snore. He should never have left.

"_Merlin_..."

It seemed closer now. Merlin focused and felt himself pulled to the right. The burning of his magic agreed with him as he turned. It felt like the right thing to do, just as it felt right to have magic itself.

"_Merlin_..."

He was in the dungeon now. No other place could have looked so horrible and said. There was thin, crispy hay scattered amongst the dark stone floor and there were iron bars running down the walls, like cages. It reminded him of the bounty hunter who had once passed brazenly through Ealdor with a sick smile on his face as children locked in the back of the cart cried. Hunith had hidden him away for hours, even after the bounty hunter had left.

Merlin walked slowly, remembering as he passed the empty cages until he found one which was occupied. Before him stood a very big man, who had dirty hair and funny clothes. He wore no shoes.

"_Merlin_," said the voice in his head. It was pleased now, and the man was smiling.

"It's you?" Merlin found himself asking, staring at the man from underneath his hood. "How do you know my name?"

The man pressed a finger to his lips and looked pointedly to the guard sitting at the far end of the corridor. He was far enough for Merlin to have gotten away with it, and he had his back turned, but Merlin knew if he was any louder that he would be put in one of the cells, because what he was doing was so Against The Rules.

The man's finger moved from his lips to his temple. "_Use your mind_," he said. "_Think your words and focus on them on my being. Push your mind out, Merlin. Talk to me._"

It took Merlin a few tries, but finally his magic no longer slipped and he heard himself asking with the same echoing tone, "_Who are you?_"

"_I am Kane_," the tall man said gently, the fierce tone having left his voice. He lowered himself to the boy's height and held the bars for support as he crouched. Merlin watched as the irises of Kane's eyes were overcome with gold, and the lock of the cell clicked. They both looked up to the now open lock. "_It's okay. I have magic, too._"

Merlin knew he was doing a Bad Thing. He knew he was talking to the man who had made Arthur ill. He knew Gaius would be very angry. He knew he was going to be in Big Trouble, but he'd never met somebody who could speak to him in his head before. He had never met somebody else of magic, and it fascinated him.

"_Why are you here when you could run away?_"

Kane smiled. "_I wanted to meet you, Merlin_."

"_How do you know my name?_" he asked once more.

"_A lot of people know your name_," Kane said as he carefully and quietly brought himself to his full height and stepped out of the cell. "_I know it because I have been searching for you for a very long time._"

"_Me?_"

"_Yes. You are very powerful, Merlin. It has made you very popular among my people_."

"_There are more people like me?_" he asked in wonder.

Kane smiled warmly again, beckoning for Merlin to follow him quietly. "_There are more people like you than the whole of Camelot put together. Come on. I need to get out of here. That's it, Merlin. Be very quiet. There's a good lad. Do you think you can show me the way?_"

Merlin was in complete awe of this man. Kane had taught him to speak without voices, and he both had and knew other people with magic. After all, it was only polite – this man had said he had wanted to meet him.

But...

"_Why did you make Arthur ill?_"

"_It wasn't me_," Kane said, looking down at Merlin with kind eyes. "_I was trying to stop them and make the Prince better, but I got caught instead_."

"_Arthur said you put yourself in the dungeons_."

"_I had to, Merlin. It was the only way I could survive and meet you without being killed first. Do you understand?_"

Merlin nodded and led the way up the marble stairs. He pointed down the corridor that led to the courtyard. "_You have to go through the town. There are a lot of guards..._" he said doubtfully.

"_It's okay, I can do it._"

"_Well, bye, then._"

Kane patted the boy's hooded head. "_Thank you, Merlin. You've helped me so much._"

Merlin shrugged to hide his embarrassment. "_It's okay_."

He watched as Kane pulled his brown hood over his head and took a few tentative steps forward before spinning around. "_Hey, Merlin. Do you want to come with me? I can let you meet the others with magic, if you would like_."

Merlin spoke aloud now, stumbling over his words. "I can't... Gaius will be mad... He might know I left..."

"He doesn't," Kane assured with another smile. He looked around, checking their surroundings to ensure nobody could hear their words. "I spoke to him like I spoke to you."

"You did?"

"Yes. He woke up."

"He doesn't know I left?"

"No," Kane said hurriedly, although Merlin didn't notice. "So what do you say? Do you want to meet more people with magic?"

"Not the people who made Arthur sick."

"No. My people are nice."

"Well..."

"Aw, go on. We won't be gone long – I promise we'll be back before the sun comes up."

"Well... okay," Merlin agreed, trusting Kane's promise.

"Great! Alright. Keep your hood up."

And so Merlin followed Kane out of Camelot, just as he had followed his mother in. The warning bells sounded just as they left the upper quarter, but they were so far away that nobody spotted them and the ringing was nothing but a distant call. The guards on duty had left their positions and were running back to the citadel for orders.

Kane told Merlin there was nothing to worry about. They would be fine. Everybody wanted to meet him. It would be fun.

By the time they were in the forests which lay outside of Camelot, Gaius had heard of the escape and was hurrying to Merlin's room, unsure of whether he would find the boy still sleeping or trembling like a bag of nerves. The warning bells would be new to him. He didn't think Merlin would accept the comfort, but Gaius didn't want him going anywhere, not when a man who wanted his powers for personal gain was on the loose in Camelot and hunting for him.

He burst into the boy's room... to find it empty

Gaius only just managed to keep himself from falling to the floor.


	15. XV

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin. I wish I did.

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><p>It was when the King called the council together the morning after the renegade Druid had escaped that Arthur realised something was really wrong with Gaius. The young blonde was lingering in a corner of the room, listening to his father shout mercilessly at the knights and lords about the poor guard duty in his kingdom and the importance of the imposed curfew rule that was not being taken seriously.<p>

As Uther was shouting and pacing around the council chambers, Arthur leant against a pillar, only present because his father believed it was a necessary lesson to understand what it meant to be a king. It hadn't been as interesting to see as he thought it was going to be. He didn't want to be here. Merlin wasn't here. His friend was sitting in the court physician's chambers, probably lonely and wondering when Gaius was going to come back.

The Prince looked to the physician. There was a type of sadness in the way he sat, although he was upright and forever proving his worth to the council. The old man mostly kept his eyes down, but when he did look up, they did not twinkle or crinkle around the edges like they always did. Arthur had never seen Gaius look so defeated and depressed.

Nobody else appeared to notice. Many council members were either in their chairs cowering or stuttering muffled apologies to the King or looking angrily at the other knights, insistent that it was not their fault.

Uther, becoming incoherent in his rage, dismissed everyone and ordered Sir Baethan to tell all of the knights to continue searching for the ex-Druid for as long as it took. He hadn't once mentioned the conversation he'd had with the escaped prisoner or the suspicions he had had.

Arthur watched Gaius walk slowly from the council chambers to his own quarters. The old man was hunched over, and despite his slow pace, it was as if he wanted to get into his room and hide himself away in private as quickly as possible. He wanted to follow him and talk to him and ask what was wrong, but his father emerged from the chambers and called him away; Morgana and her father were coming to the castle so the men could talk about grown-up things and Arthur needed to change his tunic.

"Hello, _princess,_" Morgana said with a teasing smile when they met in the throne room, their fathers grasping each other's hands in greeting beside them.

"Shut up, Morgana," Arthur muttered.

Morgana annoyed Arthur. They saw each other often, and every time she always told him she was the oldest, smartest and funniest of the two. He always told her that he was the sole heir to the throne of Camelot. That always shut her up.

* * *

><p>The sky was a beautiful spectacle of oranges, yellows and reds, and it made Merlin become desperate to find his way home. Kane had promised he would be back in Camelot by sunrise, but that had been hours ago.<p>

It was sunset. Kane had lied.

Merlin had sat on the edge of a cave for most of the day, shivering in his cloak even in the warmth of the sun. He was always surrounded by people, and it was only during the evening that Merlin realised it was because they didn't want him to run away or hide.

They took turns watching over him and called him 'Emrys' or 'Ambrosius', speaking about him as if he wasn't around, and when they did seem to notice him, they would stare down at him nastily or laugh at his size. They didn't feed him. Another child, older than Merlin, had been caught trying to sneak him some scraps of bread, but they'd caught her and she had been sent away. He didn't see her again.

It turned out that he didn't see many people – only the small groups of adults who stood guard and people who dared to pass. He'd only seen Kane once since they had arrived, but Merlin had listened to some conversations and he had heard that Kane was something of a hero for making the Prince ill and luring Merlin away from Camelot. They said that he was now in the forests with other ex-Druids who had turned their backs on the peaceful teachings they had grown up with.

"Go on, lad," one of the burly men said gruffly. "Time to go inside. Move it. Kane will be back soon."

He roughly hauled Merlin to his feet, his sharp nails digging into Merlin's sensitive armpits, and pushed him into the cave. Merlin stumbled and yelped. A lot of people laughed at him.

The cave was massive. Merlin couldn't even see the end of it, it just went on and on, full with hideaways for the children and beds and tables and dirty pots and pans and clothes lines.

He had been resisting against crying openly in front of these cruel strangers all day, but now the tears ran freely and swiftly down his face. He hadn't cried in a while, not even when his mother died, because he was so scared that Gaius would hear him. His eyes had often stung since, but he'd never let the tears fall. He hadn't cried since she had told him they had to leave Ealdor.

The men mocked him when they saw his tears and flushed face, but he didn't care. Merlin didn't understand it, but he was finally mourning for his mother. He wanted her more than ever.

"Maybe you shouldn't allow him to get so upset, Rune," a woman suggested quietly to the burly man who was shoving him along the length of the cave. "You know what our kids are like when they lose control. Think of what he'd be like. Worse."

"He's fine!" the man named Rune jeered. "He's just being a little girl, aren't you, Emrys? The powerful sorcerer is crying because the big men are being howwible to the widdle boy!"

The booming sound of the men laughing again filled the cave, and Merlin wiped his nose on the inside of his hood and tried to pick up his feet so he wouldn't get pushed so much.

"Sit down, kid, and stop your snivelling," Rune said, forcing Merlin down onto a low bed. "Lucan, come and stand watch by him."

"Better tie his hands."

"No point. Kane's sortin' it. That's why we ain't lettin' him eat."

"Right."

Merlin ignored them and curled into a tight ball on the hard mattress, sobbing quietly.

* * *

><p>Morgana and Gorlois left at dusk with Sir Baethan and Sir Argyn escorting them through the citadel. The renegade Druid was still missing, and Uther wasn't taking any chances, not even with the handful of knights who had finished their search for the day.<p>

The King excused himself and left Arthur, who waved off Brigit's concern and headed to the court physician's quarters so he could ask Merlin whether he wanted to watch the knights batter each other with maces and swords on the training field tomorrow afternoon.

He knocked three times, and then let himself in.

"Sire," Gaius said, standing up from his seat. He looked halfway between frantic and exhausted. It was worrying, even for a seven-year-old who always reminded everyone he was very nearly eight.

Arthur hesitated in the doorway, his eyes searching the room for Merlin. "I came to ask if Merlin wanted to... Where is he?"

Gaius sat back down. "He's not here."

"I can see that," Arthur said, coming into the room and standing at the side of the empty table Gaius was at. "Where'd he go?"

Gaius didn't know whether to lie or tell the truth to the Prince.

He was worried that if he was honest with Arthur, the boy would do something drastic that involved speaking to his father, and Gaius couldn't stand to face any questions from Uther about Merlin. It would be inevitable that Uther would piece two and two together and accuse Merlin of magic. Why else would the renegade Druid have taken him? Nobody could ransom a poor commoner under the court physician's care. There was no reason to. In Uther's eyes, Merlin was worth little. There would be no search and rescue ordered.

Gaius sighed. Arthur was a boy. He couldn't be burdened with such responsibility.

However, Gaius didn't want to lie. He didn't know whether he would be able to keep it up, but he also knew there was not much choice.

"A friend of his mother's came for him, Sire. He's gone back to his village."

"But you said he was staying here! He said that you promised!" Arthur cried angrily, his cheeks reddening. "He didn't want to go home!"

"I'm afraid I had little choice, Sire."

"Why did they take him back?" Arthur demanded.

"Merlin's mother believed he would be better in Ealdor. She always wanted him there." And it was the truth, Gaius thought. Hunith had wanted Merlin to live in Ealdor and grow up happily and have as much of a normal childhood as possible. She had always wanted that for her only child – magic or no magic.

"Why did she come in the first place then?"

"She was very ill. She came for my help."

"That's stupid," Arthur spat, kicking the table leg. "I want him back."

"So do I, Sire."

"I'm going to get him back," Arthur announced. His face was still bright red and his toe hurt from kicking the table. "You wait and see, Gaius. I will."

Gaius could only watch helplessly as Arthur stormed out of his chambers and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I tried not to let this get too depressing. I can't bring myself to hurt Merlin any more, but I must!

Thank you, again, for all of your reviews, favourites and alerts – DammitimmaD, manni85, thundercan and Rocky181 especially.


	16. XVI

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin.

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><p>Arthur was lost, and he knew that Gaius felt it, too.<p>

It was so quiet without Merlin, even though the kid very rarely opened his mouth, and it seemed to get quieter as the days passed. Arthur found himself becoming increasingly annoyed at everyone for no apparent reason – even Brigit, who tried so hard to care for him. He'd simply been skulking around the castle with his hands in his pockets in a continuous bad mood, planning how to bring his friend home.

He wasn't talking to his father. After leaving Gaius, he'd stomped to his father's chambers to ask if he could go to visit Merlin in the village called Ealdor, with a determination to bring Merlin back from the supposed visit, but his father had done nothing but laugh.

"Be reasonable, Arthur," he'd said. "I cannot allow you to travel on your own, let alone to a village that isn't even in my kingdom. Have you forgotten we are still searching for that rogue Druid?"

"But Father... –"

"The boy was taken to his home for a reason. Count it as a blessing that we have our court physician back."

"He's not the one who left," Arthur had mumbled, confused.

"Leave it be, Arthur. That's my final word."

"He's my friend!"

"You have others. Now leave me."

But that was the thing – Arthur didn't have many other children to play with. He had Morgana, but she was older, _and _she was a_ girl._ He had the sons of the knights in Camelot, but few of them were the same age as him, and even then, Arthur fought and argued with them. They had everything he did. They were the same as him. They were boring. Merlin wasn't. Arthur had delighted in having Merlin, because Merlin had very little and he was different, and because Arthur could teach things to him, even if Merlin was a complete idiot and even though they had only played together for a short time. Arthur had never had anybody to share his things with before.

It was why he was angry. It had been taken away from him.

His father thought he was being childish and believed that he would come around soon enough, and when he did, he would be willing to accept his son's apology, but Arthur had made a promise that he wouldn't speak until his father saw reason himself and realised what a good idea it was for Arthur to go to Merlin. If Arthur acted upset enough, maybe his father would let him go just to cheer up.

There had to be some perks to being a spoiled prince, after all.

Yesterday, Arthur had managed to convince a servant to saddle up a horse for him and he'd ridden out of the stables, but he'd only gotten to the lower towns before Sir Rowan had charged after him with six other knights in tow and had hauled him back to the castle kicking and screaming that he would have each and every one of them thrown in the stocks.

Today, he was locked in his chambers for his apparent outrageous behaviour, and Gaius had come to visit him because Uther believed the old physician could be a faithful advisor to Arthur as he was to him. Uther firmly insisted that Arthur had to learn to both rely on other people and to make his own decisions.

"Sire, you must give up. You're not doing yourself any favours."

"Won't," Arthur mumbled, staring out of the window. "He didn't say goodbye to me."

"I know, Sire. Merlin was sorry about that."

"I dunno why he couldn't just stay. He didn't wanna go."

"Sometimes things don't always go the way you would like them to, Sire."

"Stupid."

Gaius nodded. He had only come to appease Uther. "I have to go and see the Lady Vivienne, Sire. I'll come back tomorrow."

"You didn't come to let me out?" Arthur said crossly, turning away from the window.

"No, Arthur... but if I might suggest... if you are sure you want to pursue this, maybe if you apologised to your father, he'd allow it."

"I'm not apologising."

"Like I said, Sire... sometimes things don't always go the way you would like them to. You have to do things that you don't like to do in order to get your own way in the end," Gaius added suggestively.

Arthur's eyes grew wider. He understood. He had to apologise to his father, who would allow him out of his chambers, and then he could resume with his ingenious plans. "Of course!"

"Good day, Sire," Gaius said, and he bowed and left the room.

* * *

><p>The minutes merged into hours, and the hours merged into days, but it could have been mere seconds for Merlin since he had been thrown down onto the bed. He had lost track of time now that he was being kept away from the entrance of the cave. It meant he could no longer watch the sun – an insignificant activity which had been his only reprieve on the first day.<p>

"You're not fooling anyone, Merlin."

Merlin opened his eyes and looked up to Kane who was looming over him, holding a bowl of hot soup in one hand and some bread in another. For the last half an hour, he had pretended to be asleep so nobody would bother him, but the giant had seen right through him. He'd only looked up because his proper name had been used.

He felt stiff. He had fallen asleep after wearing himself out with his latest hysterics that had begun when they had tied his feet and wrists together, and now he felt sick to his stomach with hunger and exhaustion. There was no doubt he was becoming weaker.

"Eat," Kane said, holding the bowl of soup out to him.

Merlin shook his head. He ate twice a day and never failed to drain the goblet of water he was always given, even when he said he wasn't hungry; Kane forced him to despite Merlin's resistance.

Kane had stolen his magic, and Merlin downright refused to take anything from him. Every time Merlin tried to summon his powers, he was overcome with dizziness and threw up. He was cold and silent without the warmth inside of him, never having felt so helpless before. He'd never had his magic taken away from him before.

"Eat it, or I will make you like I did yesterday."

Merlin sat up painfully slow. Kane didn't help him, but simply watched with a sick smile on his face before putting the bowl into the boy's lap. He then loosened the rope bound around Merlin's wrists behind his back and didn't leave until he had finished.

Even though Merlin had been too scared to use his magic to his advantage, he'd still had the warmth of it inside of him to comfort him and reassure him. But now it was gone, he couldn't bring himself to even fantasise about running away. He felt empty. Incomplete.

"Eat the bread and then I'll let you have some water."

Merlin washed down the food gratefully and then settled awkwardly back down onto the mattress. He hurt all over.

"I bet you feel a little silly, don't you?" Kane asked, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I thought it would take a lot more than simple persuasion to get you out of the castle."

Merlin didn't answer. He turned over and stared lifelessly at the cave wall, willing the man to go away and leave him alone.

"But then I again, I didn't expect you to be so... young. I expected... _more_," Kane mused to Merlin's back. "I believed the great Ambrosius to have a little more sense, you know. Little," Kane said, scoffing. "You really are a little guy, aren't you?"

_Here we go again,_ Merlin thought wearily. Kane and his men had done nothing but poke fun at his size.

"How's he doing?" a harsh female voice asked, but there was very little concern in her tone.

"Unresponsive."

There was the sound of kissing, and then laughter. "Wow, Kane, how much of that crap did you give him?"

"Enough."

Merlin was barely listening. The soup had made him tired, its warmth settling him as it reminded him of his magic that he'd once had to keep fighting with to keep it under control; he had been too scared to do anything around all these other people who had magic, too. They were bigger than him, and stronger.

He could do nothing. He'd tried. That's why they'd tied his feet and his hands together so now, he wouldn't have been able to make it to the end of the cave without somebody catching up with him. There was a reason they'd moved him to the very back of the cave.

"Have you heard from the Druids?"

Everything was blurring around the edges; the voices felt like an annoying buzzing in Merlin's ear, and even though he knew Kane and the woman were right beside him, they sounded so far away...

"Same as it was when we met with them yesterday. Begging us not to hurt the boy, asking for us to give him to them so he can be returned to Camelot, saying he's not ready, that he's still learning... the usual."

"They're not serious, surely?"

Kane laughed again. "Apparently, they didn't know he was such a runt either, but they swear that they were never looking for him in the first place. They kept saying that he belongs in Camelot with the old man."

"'m not a runt," Merlin slurred. "Prat."

* * *

><p>Gaius had just returned from visiting Morgana's mother, who was now perfectly healthy and running around after her daughter again, when Sir Rowan knocked on the open door to his chambers<p>

_At least he has more manners than Baethan_, the physician thought while setting down his basket of medicines and herbs. He looked to the knight. "Sir Rowan. Has another council been called already?"

"No, Gaius. I was asked to escort somebody to you," he replied, stepping aside to reveal a travel-worn middle-aged man behind him. "I trust you'll be fine, now?" Sir Rowan asked the stranger.

"Thank you," he said, dipping his head and smiling. "You've been very kind."

Sir Rowan nodded. "Well, good day to you both."

"Good day, Sir Rowan," Gaius replied, and then he stared at the man who had been left at his door, not believing his tired eyes.

"Gaius," Matthew greeted warmly, stepping into the room the shake the man's hand.

"Matthew – what...? Why are... –"

Matthew looked apologetic and held up his hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. The drought in Ealdor has been hard on our crops and I couldn't leave."

"Your _crops_?" Gaius exclaimed loudly. "You didn't come because of your _crops_?"

"Well – yes – it _is _hard, Gaius. We also had the memorial for Hunith and her home to... –"

"Someone else could have handled the responsibility, surely!"

"It was mine and mine alone. It was my fault Hunith and Merlin left in the first place. After the renegade Druids left, your message arrived, and I couldn't leave them, Gaius. Hunith meant a great deal to the village."

"Right," the old man huffed, turning around to his table where he began to fumble with some remedies.

"Gaius..."

"Meanwhile," Gaius started slowly and quietly, the emotions he had hidden and stored away since Merlin's kidnap beginning to surface. "I've had to deal with a broken-hearted little boy – who just happens to be the most powerful warlock in existence, by the way – and help him to start a new life and promise him that he could stay with me, all the while attempting to hide who he is by lying to my king! He never spoke, he never cried, never even complained when he had to carry himself around the town with me and pretend he was okay, and you know what he really was, Matthew? I'll tell you, shall I? He was _brave_, braver than I have ever been in my whole life!"

"Gaius..."

"And then when he finally began to believe me when I said he could stay, he made friends, only to then be stolen from us! We haven't see hair or hide of him since! And do you know who stole him from me, Matthew? Do you?" he demanded angrily.

Matthew shook his head, having been stunned into silence.

"He was stolen by the very people you warned his mother about!"

Gaius held his ground, seething for a moment, staring at Matthew before he threw himself onto his bed and buried his head into his hands, completely shattered.

"Gaius, I'm so sorry," Matthew said quietly, coming to sit down beside him.

"I'm getting too old for this, Matthew."

"You're not old – not yet! You have thirty years in you at least!" Matthew said, trying, and failing, to lighten the mood.

"Not at the rate I'm going," he sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping, Matthew. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay. I deserved it."

"No, you didn't. It's just been hard."

"When did they take the boy, Gaius?"

"Three days ago – middle of the night."

Matthew ran a hand over his face. "Listen, it's not much, but I had enough money to send a message to Balinor with the runner you sent to Ealdor."

"_You_ know Balinor?"

"No, but Hunith told me enough. I told him of her death and that he should be extra cautious..."

"Matthew... Gods, boy, Balinor doesn't even know that he has a son! How did _you _even know where to send the message?"

"He does now. I told him."

_"What?"_

Matthew shrugged. "I had to. He was last seen 19 leagues away from Ealdor two weeks ago. I don't only just listen for rumours about the Druids at the market, you know."

"Hopefully he receives it, then, although... I don't exactly know what he can do, Matthew. He's banished from Camelot. How can you expect him... Oh, gods!"

"I know, I know, but he knows the Druids; my mother told me he lived there for a short time after he left Ealdor because Uther was coming for him. They took him in."

"I fear Balinor won't be willing to use them."

"At any rate, Gaius, he deserved to know of her death and that she survives through their son. It was the right thing to do."

"Maybe you're right," Gaius said, "but I'm afraid we're still at square one."

He rose from the bed and clapped Matthew on the shoulder and then began unpacking his basket, because it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from going insane from being unable to do anything for Merlin. He had thought of everything.

The two men remained in a comfortable but thoughtful silence.


	17. XVII

**Disclaimer:** I own three Merlin box sets, which I am currently watching from the very beginning, because I am beside myself with excitement for the fourth series that starts **TOMORROW.**

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><p>As he had left Merlin, Gaius left Matthew and let his legs carry him beneath the castle.<p>

"If it were any other puny mortal, I would be expecting an apology for the last time you sought me out, but I know you, old man. What is it you require this time?"

Gaius swallowed thickly and stared up at the Great Dragon as he held the flame of the torch above his head. He had secretly been building himself up for this moment since the morning after Merlin had disappeared, but now, Gaius couldn't exactly remember why he was here because once again, he was terrified that he would be burnt to a crisp.

He hadn't been lying to Matthew when he had said the boy was braver than he.

"Speak up," Kilgharrah droned, "it may seem to you that I have all day to wait, but the fact is that I do not."

Then Gaius remembered, and he summoned what little strength he had left.

"The renegade Druids. They have Merlin."

"So it would seem," the Dragon said as his yellow orbs peered down at Gaius. "I told you that I would not stand for the boy to be alone, and yet, he is alone."

"What do you _mean?_"

"I mean what I say. You have failed."

"Please, some help would be appreciated, Kilgharrah," Gaius said. Somehow, he was still holding onto what courage and strength he had.

"You do not need help," the Dragon boomed. "If you listened to me the last time, you would remember that I said Merlin has a long journey ahead of him. That is to say that the end of his time is not upon us, old man. Let what is to pass simply... pass."

"Who's side are you on?"

"I stand with the boy."

"You do understand that the renegade Druids do not intend to overthrow Uther and kill the boy," Gaius said calmly, "but they intend to bring about Uther's destruction and commit unspeakable acts by _using_ the boy."

"They do. But, they also intend to allow the Pendragon boy to rule and complete his destiny with Merlin in his rightful place. That is, by his side. They are one. I have said this."

"You are not helping!" Gaius shouted. "I'm trying to do the right thing!"

"I have told you, Gaius," Kilgharrah droned again, "that you do not need help. Uther shall die, and Arthur shall rule, and Merlin will be at his side. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"You don't," Gaius muttered angrily under his breath, his arm aching slightly from holding the burning torch above his head. "I just want the boy home."

Kilgharrah chuckled, his laugh booming off the cave walls and giving Gaius a headache in the process. "But this is hilarious, old man. You have come to care for the boy, after all. I didn't believe you had it in you."

"You have to help. For Merlin. He's so _young_. He doesn't deserve this. They're doing God knows what to him, and I'm here. He won't understand."

"No, he won't. He doesn't."

There was a small silence, and then: "Well?" Gaius demanded. His stocks of energy, courage and strength were very nearly depleted, and he was on the verge of leaving just as abruptly as he had during his first visit to the Great Dragon.

"I cannot help."

"That's all I wanted to know," Gaius said. He turned his back and then added in a quiet, icy tone, "I won't be bothering you again."

Kilgharrah's mouth twitched ever so slightly and he let the man leave in silence.

This was not the end. It was the very beginning.

* * *

><p>Not being able to use magic left Merlin with a terrible hollow and bereft feeling that tore at his chest and made him choke with grief.<p>

By stealing Merlin's magic, Kane had stolen Merlin's very being, because he _was_ magic, and magic _was _Merlin, and he felt as if he would die if it wasn't returned to him soon.

If he had the strength, he would have been putting a hell of a lot of energy into directing his anger and hatred towards the man, but it wasn't just Merlin who knew that it was impossible; everybody who called the filthy cave their home laughed at him for it. They listened to conversations between their unofficial leader and the warlock, and they knew everything, and they didn't stop talking.

"Why aren't you letting me use magic?" Merlin had asked the first time – or at least, he'd thought he'd asked. His words were still slurred as if he was a child alcoholic, or a futuristic robot malfunctioning, but Kane always seemed to understand and his eyes danced like they always did when he found something funny.

"I can't have you trying to pull the wool over my eyes, can I now, Merlin? I sure didn't put myself through all of that trouble for you to just _run away_," he'd replied, and he'd even done the motion with his middle and index finger in a poor attempt to mock Merlin's little legs.

_If only,_ Merlin thought as he remembered the moment rather hazily. He'd tried escaping, and his wrists were now bleeding because of it.

Kane was the only person in the whole encampment to call Merlin by his true name. According to him, the two nicknames meant the same thing, but in different foreign languages, or whatever that was. Kane seemed to enjoy the way it irked the other men and women who were forever referring to him as 'Emrys', or 'Ambrosius', but it was also because, despite how badly he was treating the boy, he viewed Merlin as an equal. They were kin, after all. Merlin was a just little bit of a threat at the moment, but Kane truly believed the boy would come round. He truly believed it would work out in the end.

Kane had tried to explain this to Merlin, and the small warlock had been stunned into silence by the few words he had understood. Merlin was only six-years-old, but he didn't question that Kane was insane.

Some of others thought Kane was crazy, too, (he was) and all they wanted to do was to bring about Uther's destruction and then pawn Merlin off to the highest bidder as soon as possible. He was a liability, they said, and a powerful one at that. They barely tolerated Kane thinking he could rule them as it was and they didn't want Merlin thinking the same. There were few of them, and they had to preserve what they had.

The rest of the renegades also thought Kane was crazy, but they dully hoped there was some truth in his beliefs. They needed the boy if Albion was ever to be united. They had abandoned the Druids, but they were still fighting for magic to rule the land again. They wanted him on side.

Merlin groaned and, wishing that he were asleep, he turned onto his side and tried to let the rope rub against his wrists as little as possible. It was so hard to think when his mind was so foggy and when his stomach hurt from throwing up so much. In the same mist that surrounded his mind, he was unknowingly summoning the magic that did not exist, and it made him hurl every single time. His large daily meals from Kane ensured he always had something to put on the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This update is late and short and boring, but sort of necessary, because I am ill – I'm sorry! I won't bother you with the sob story.

I realise it probably seems like I had a meltdown with writing in the past few chapters (for the record, I did) but I'm slowly working myself out of the corner to get the story flowing again. When this story is complete, I plan to go back and put some real time and effort into working on any possible plot-holes and spelling mistakes I've missed, etc. At the moment I feel like I just need to get Merlin's story down before I lose it. If you have anything to suggest and comment on, do feel free, please!

I know we're all cheerleading for Arthur to save Merlin – trust me, I am too – but I can't figure out how a seven-year-old boy can go on a plausible rescue mission. He's wanted for dead and under fierce protection, and we know what Uther's like. I'll figure something out.

I'm sending a massive thank you and a slap on the back to each and every one of you for sticking with me.

Nik


	18. XVIII

**Disclaimer: **Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps own Merlin.

* * *

><p>He had curly, shoulder-length dark brown hair, and his matching brown eyes raged in the light of the fire that was burning at the mouth of the cave he approached. His long, dirty, battered travelling cloak flapped violently around his legs, which carried his body with such ferocity that the four men who were watching him stalk towards them did not dare move.<p>

They were supposed to be on guard, but they had abandoned their positions and were instead huddled around the burning scraps of wood they had left in an attempt to fight the cold of the night. Three of them were skinny, while the fourth who lingered in the middle was abnormally muscular and short.

"What do you want?" the tallest demanded, placing himself at the front of the group. "You have no right to be here. I suggest you leave."

"Give it a rest with the theatrics, boy," the stranger spat. His hand cut through the air in one sudden, swift moment, and two of the men flew backwards into the cave without so much as a word being said.

The muscular man stepped forward, hunching his shoulders in what was probably meant to be a show of threatening behaviour. "Yer' shouldn't have done that."

"So I suppose that I probably shouldn't do this, either," the rugged man said darkly, and the same hand stretched out and threw the stocky man on top of the other two men who were in the middle of struggling to get up.

The last man standing by the fire looked as if he were going to faint. He only barely managed to stop himself from falling backwards into the fire when the stranger lurched forward.

"Well? Go on then!" he shouted. "Go and find your leader!"

The skinny man jumped and sprinted into the cave with impressive speed.

Satisfied, the stranger followed. It was easy enough; the people in the cave were warily parting to make room for the sorcerer after having rushed to gather around the three men who were tangled together on the floor. The first two underneath had been knocked unconscious, and the third simply couldn't find his feet. It would have been amusing to the man if he hadn't been so angry.

He'd had a fleeting moment of rationality before he had arrived and had thought that striding into a camp full of renegades, alone, probably wasn't the best plan he'd ever had, but now it seemed like it was the smartest he'd ever had. He had expected more to resist, but his terrifying eyes and hard expression apparently made their challenges against him evaporate into thin air. It was almost a shame – he had been looking forward to the possibility of a destructive battle. Not one of these people stood tall to defend themselves, and he had to admit that he was rather disappointed, in both how easy it was and how quickly they were to back down. He resolved to make more spontaneous plans in the future.

"Who are you?" someone demanded, stepping forward. It was a taller man who had longer brown hair, a long nose, and a broad chin. He screamed Wrong and Evil, and no matter how brave this new man was who had piled failures who called themselves sentries on top of one another, his whole body was crying out for him to run away.

"You must be Kane," he said, fighting his instincts and planting his feet to the hard floor.

"Who says?"

"I hear that you've caught the legendary Emrys. Impressive work."

Kane drew himself to his full height and smiled. "I like to think so," he replied smugly.

"Yeah, really impressive considering he's a six-year-old boy. I bet you put your back out there, didn't you?"

Kane's eyes narrowed as he raked them over the stranger who spoke calmly, despite his violent and intimidating demeanour. He was an explosion waiting to happen.

"Didn't think anyone would notice the boy missing, did you?"

"Are you missing him?" Kane crooned, because mocking people was what he was best at, and it worked. Most of the time.

"I have come to... ah, _collect_ him, and relieve you of your duties."

"I don't think so. The boy stays," Kane said. It was the first real threat he'd presented, but even he knew it wasn't working.

"Unfortunately for you, that's not your decision to make."

Kane rounded on the other man and unintentionally gave him a clear view of Merlin who he had been shielding behind him on the bed. The tiny warlock had dried food smeared around his mouth – or was that sick? It made little difference, considering his already shockingly dirty and bruised appearance. He had curled up defensively on the bed as best as he could, because his wrists and ankles were bound together tightly. He was shivering. Or was he trembling?

"Whose decision decides the boy's fate, then?"

"Don't even try to threaten me, boy," the man said, studying the boy and ignoring Kane as he circled him. "It won't work. I've heard a lot about you and your... _antics_. You were a pathetic excuse for a Druid, and you make an even worse renegade."

"I said _whose decision is it to make_?"

"Mine," the man said, pulling his eyes away from Merlin. The boy was more than certainly drugged; his eyes were unfocused, dancing in their sockets as they tried to place faces with the voices around him. Merlin looked like he had been stripped of everything he knew.

Kane scoffed, stopping in front of the stranger. "You have no right."

"I am Balinor," he said, barely containing his rage at the mistreatment of his son, even if it was the first time he had laid eyes on the boy. The words of Matthew's hurried letter flashed across his mind as he continued. "I'm also the last Dragonlord, so if you value your pathetic existence, I'd run away if I were you. Fast."

"I have said that the boy stays here!"

"He is coming with me," he declared in a tight voice.

"No."

"I wonder," Balinor hissed, "whether your heart is really in it. Are you without magic? Do you not know who you are? I should be on the other side of the cave with a broken neck by now. I have insulted you, threatened you, and wounded your people, and you have done nothing!"

"That's right," Kane nodded enthusiastically, pointing a finger to Balinor's chest. "I did do nothing."

"Call yourself a renegade? You're a bloody coward. You're insane!"

"I am not!"

"Prove it," the Dragonlord dared. "Restore your faith in your people who are so unwilling to protect you," he said, spreading his arms wide in a gesture that practically offered himself to Kane on a silver plate with a royal crest.

Many renegades had gathered, some eyeing the scene with disapproval, some with anger, and some with fear. Kane had chosen himself as their leader, and he was doing nothing to stand by them, and the ones who did want to step up to the mark were remembering the impressive display of power at the entrance of the cave and were still figuring out how to approach their enemy. They all wanted to live. They wanted to see magic bought back to the land.

And, further still, if this man said who he really was, not one of them wanted to be responsible for the death of the last Dragonlord.

"Well?"

Kane did not blink for a minute, and then, _"Forbærne! Ácwele!"_

"_Gescildan."_

The fire balls that Kane sent to Balinor's chest were stopped by the shield he had thrown up before him in the same instant. Furious, Kane redirected the spell at every single angle of Balinor, over and over again, and each time, Balinor shielded himself and the people around him and, more importantly, Merlin.

"You really are foolish," Balinor said with a grim smile when Kane collapsed against the wall, panting heavily. "You could have set your home ablaze and endangered the lives of your people. Your friends. Family."

"But I didn't."

Balinor was very nearly considering sending some offensive magic to destroy the man, but he instead moved to the bed Merlin was sobbing recklessly on and bent over him, allowing his magic to slice the ropes that bound his son's limbs together. The pieces slithered to the floor as Balinor tried to form a coherent sentence that wasn't of the Old Religion and would send Kane rocketing to the ceiling.

"Like I said. Foolish," he finally said.

"Leave him alone!" Kane roared.

"I gave you a chance."

"_Ástríce!"_

Balinor cursed himself for turning his back. As he was spinning around, Kane struck him in his side, and the Dragonlord tumbled over Merlin's cot and fell to the floor. He gave himself a second before holding his palm out, and he directed it at Kane's feet underneath the cot. They were lifted from the cave floor, and as Balinor rose to his feet, he heard females screaming and a strangled cry of rage.

The Dragonlord chanced a glance down to Merlin. He was now rigid on the bed and throwing up violently after having tried to protect himself the only way he knew how; he'd reached for his magic when Balinor had been thrown over him, and now he was paying the price.

Balinor paled at the sight of his son, but otherwise appeared unharmed as Kane prowled through the crowds. As much as he had wanted a fight, his own flesh and blood was suffering, and he knew they had to get out.

But his wish had come true. Kane was finally insensible with fury.

"You are not taking the boy!"

Balinor was considerably smaller than Kane – most people were – but he more than made up for it as he roared mightily, "You have no right! You took advantage of him!"

"I told you that I did nothing!" Kane screamed almost childishly.

"You knew that you would be the first person of magic that he would meet! You knew the consequences! You pulled that little boy from his bed, and you tricked him! _Ástríce!_"

The explosion that was Balinor, Kane thought as he flew through the air, had finally hit. He snapped clothes lines and hit tables as he landed and appeared to have been rendered unconscious.

"C'mon, boy," Balinor said in a gruff voice. He picked up a broken, shivering Merlin from the small bed and bent again awkwardly to pick the grey cloak up with the boy in his arms. He hung the hood over Merlin's head and wrapped the rest of it around him in a bid to provide him with warmth and security, and then he turned to leave. Merlin hiccuped, finally realising in a drugged stupor that he was free of his restraints and locked his arms around his saviour's neck.

Balinor didn't bother to restrain the growl that escaped from his lips. Kane had suddenly appeared and was blocking his way. There was blood gushing from the man's head and he was cradling his wrist.

"So help me, _Kane_, I will blow you and this damn cave to smithereens. I will give you _more_ than scratches and broken limbs and a sore ego and a few damaged friends, _and then_ I'll free Kilgharrah and order him to burn you all for good measure if you don't _move the hell out of my way_."

Balinor spoke with such menacing conviction that Kane pressed himself to the narrow cave wall and let the Dragonlord pass with Merlin, who had enough sense in his hysterics to keep his arms securely around his father's neck.

"In my defence, I didn't know the runt was going to be so young."

"And yet you still maintain that you did nothing!" Balinor roared, turning his head to the wall.

"Well, I did do nothing," Kane said in a dazed manner.

"You put him in danger," Balinor started in a strained voice, trying to gain some composure for Merlin, who was still retching. "You were the first person – someone who had magic, someone he thought he could trust! Don't you know what that does after years of isolation? He finally believes he's not alone, and you... you betrayed him. You abused him."

Kane smiled as if it were a great joke, his eyes bright again. His head was still bleeding profusely, but he didn't seem to have noticed. "Hey, someone was bound to eventually. I just got there first."

"He is a child! He needs security – friends, family, someone to show him that the world is good!"

"Haven't you heard? It's not. Be proud he has learnt that much at least, and from me, at that!"

"Goodbye, Kane."

"I'll find you!" Kane shouted at Balinor's back, and then regretted it as the man froze in his tracks and turned to face him.

"Go ahead," the Dragonlord challenged quietly, "but I daresay you might be dead by the time you decide to leave this cave."

Merlin's cries echoed throughout the cave behind them as Balinor hoisted his son up on his hip a little and strode out of the camp and into the trees.

Nobody listened. All eyes were trained on Kane.

Balinor didn't think he would be seeing him again.


	19. XIX

Balinor stormed through the Forest of Ascetir with Merlin in his arms for nearly two leagues before he finally calmed down enough to find a safe clearing for them to take refuge in. Merlin had calmed a lot sooner, having stopped crying by the time he'd realised that the god-awful sound giving him a stabbing headache was actually coming from him, and that the vile smell of sick which filled his nostrils was his own and that he'd caked the man's coat in it.

It was cold and almost dawn, and they needed to rest. Balinor ached because his adrenaline rush was very much over, and Merlin had refused to close his eyes since he had stopped howling.

The clearing was small and unusually circular, no doubt magically structured by sorcerers before them who sought the same opportunity to rest safely. Druids, he thought, as he set Merlin down on the ground against a log. The boy leant back onto the wood gratefully, his hood falling from his head.

If you were as accustomed to magic as the Dragonlord was, it was all too easy to notice. The clearing had clearly served as some kind of camp, and now it was theirs.

Balinor crouched down in front of his son, his eyes concerned, yet warm and trusting. "Are you alright, son?"

Merlin nodded. He could think a little more clearly, and he could place people and animals and trees to the sounds they made and he could secretly rejoice that he was no longer a prisoner in a cave, but he was still wobbly and desperately empty and cold.

"I can help you," Balinor said gently, reaching out for Merlin's flayed wrists. "It's okay. I have magic, too."

Merlin flinched, remembering with disturbing clarity that those were the same words Kane had used, and Balinor pulled his hand away almost immediately, worried that he had frightened the boy.

He stared at him for a several moments as if waiting for another reaction, but Merlin held back and didn't exhale until Balinor nodded and clapped his hands to his knees as he got up. He prowled around the clearing a few times to collect firewood, keeping Merlin in his sight.

Merlin was keeping him in his sight, too, following his every move from his place the ground with glazed eyes and a feeling that he was neither here nor there.

It was sometime later when the fire was roaring and the sky was streaked with the brilliant shades of dawn that Balinor sat down in front of Merlin.

The fire hadn't been necessary – the morning air was cold, though better than it had been when they had first arrived, and Balinor could have simply used his magic to keep warm the air around them, but he'd purposefully busied himself because he knew that Merlin needed to make his own judgements of the strange man helping him before they could progress.

"I can help you," he repeated in the same gentle tone, "but if you don't want me to you have to promise that you won't do it yourself."

Merlin replied something fervent but unintelligible in a hoarse voice. He didn't want to be sick again, even though he had nothing left to be sick with and no magic to give.

"Are you going to let me help you?"

Merlin hesitated, and then gave a tiny jerk of his head.

Balinor shifted forward, his legs crossed uncomfortably, but necessary if he was to get through to Merlin. Tentatively, he reached out for Merlin and went for the most obvious injury that was causing him pain, because Balinor hadn't just been collecting firewood – he'd been watching Merlin, too. Merlin was careful with his wrists and refused to rest his hands on his legs palm-down and every time he moved he did it gingerly and was forever wincing despite his carefulness.

Balinor gently cradled Merlin's wrists in his large, calloused hands and hissed angrily.

"Hate him," Merlin slurred vehemently, staring at the red, flayed skin on his wrists the rope had eaten away.

Balinor only nodded, not encouraging him, but not quite bringing himself to tell the boy off, either. A six-year-old shouldn't have been able to understand such an emotion. He lowered Merlin's hands and tentatively titled the boy's chin with his finger, slowly turning his son's head this way and that to study the cuts and bruises, and when he lifted Merlin's shirt and saw his torso he couldn't stop himself when he whispered back, "I hate him, too."

He was careful as he removed Merlin's tunic, his fingers ghosting over the bruises and dry blood. "I should go back and kill him," he added as an afterthought.

"Don't," Merlin whispered with the same exhausted slur as he held himself perfectly still. He so desperately wanted to sleep, to heal and rest – to escape the pain, but he needed to stay awake, to protect himself and figure out how he was going to get home...

"Mm," Balinor hummed, his eyebrows furrowing. "Hold out your wrists again, Merlin."

Merlin watched with half-lidded eyes as the man before him uttered some unknown words and as the brown of his own eyes were overcome with gold. Merlin didn't understand his magic, but he was so unknowingly like Balinor that he understood so much more while ignoring the painful stings and burns. He saw the skin on his wrists knit back together and inspected his right wrist when Balinor moved onto the left, and he was surprised to note through the thin haze of his consciousness that the wound seemed as it had happened a long time ago.

"The scars will fade, eventually," Balinor reassured when he saw Merlin holding his wrist absurdly close to his face with the dramatic astonishment of a village drunk.

Merlin understood. Their magic was instinctive. It lived inside of them, because they were born with it – not like the way some of the Bad Men in the cave struggled to respond to Kane's hollering in their minds. Those people studied for years and they were still learning. Unlike Merlin, they could not bend elements to their will, or send something across the room with a lazy flick of his hand a flash of his golden eyes.

The magic was instinctive. Elemental. Natural. It was how he had helped Arthur. It was how he could have helped himself, if his magic hadn't been stolen.

He wanted it back.

"I can't do everything," Balinor murmured apologetically. He had resigned himself to the fact as soon as he had seen Merlin's injuries that they would have to return Merlin to Camelot. "I don't have the paste..."

"Huh?"

"Words can only do so much, Merlin." Balinor smiled and rose to his feet.

He didn't want to throw Merlin back under Uther's nose. He'd just found him, and now Merlin was the only thing Balinor had in the whole world, save his sanity. Hunith was dead, and Merlin was a part of Hunith as much as he was a part of him. He had her soft, brilliant blue eyes that he used to lose himself in, and he had her kindness and her dignity and her bravery and there was so much of Hunith in Merlin that Balinor wanted to burst with grief and keep a hold of the boy. It felt as if it would be the ultimate betrayal by more or less handing him back to the tyrant king.

Balinor was completely spent and angry by the time he had patched Merlin up because he wanted to do so much more than staunch the blood and drive his son's aches and pains away, but the words of an ancient language and his link to the Old Religion could only get him so far. It was inevitable that Merlin would have to return to Camelot. Gaius was not the only person who could help Merlin, but he was the only one who Balinor trusted to do so.

He sighed and gingerly shrugged out of his coat.

"_Fordwíne wamm," _he muttered, staring intently at the back of it. He felt the warmth simmer inside of him as Merlin's bile that clung to the battered fabric disappeared immediately and left his coat clean – perhaps even cleaner than it had been before his rescue mission.

After removing the contents from his pockets, Balinor spread the dark, battered material on the ground and studied it for a few seconds before overturning the top of it to create some kind of headrest. There was enough of it to both keep the boy's head elevated and his body off the dirt at the same time.

He wandered back to Merlin, picked him and his own cloak up, and then carried him over to the makeshift bed, deftly laying him across it as if he had been putting his son to bed every day for six years. He covered him with the grey, smaller cloak.

"Sleep," he insisted.

"Mmmmurgh," came Merlin's very eloquent protest, and his expression was one so full of terror that Balinor had to force the boy back down to stop himself from charging back to the renegade camp.

"No," Balinor grunted. "Really. Sleep... I won't let anything happen, okay? Go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."

There was no reply, simply the invitation of a waiting game that Merlin eventually and very quickly lost after struggling for so long with his heavy eyelids.

"Stubborn kid," he heard his rescuer scoff as he fell into slumber. "Of course he is. Just like his father."

* * *

><p>When Merlin opened his eyes, it was late afternoon, and too warm. He threw off his grey cloak that had been pulled to his chin and rubbed an eye with an open palm.<p>

"Awake, I see," a rough voice huffed from across the clearing. "At least you're not screaming this time, I suppose."

Merlin's confused face made the man chuckle, although Merlin wasn't sure if somebody screaming was something that you should laugh at.

"You woke up before, screaming. I say night terror, seeing you as you clearly don't remember. Kind of scary," he muttered to himself.

"Who you?" Merlin asked groggily. He sat up, his hands falling limply into his lap, and then he realised that he could use his arms.

Balinor scratched the stubble that decorated his chin while he crossed the clearing with a slimy bowl of green, nasty soup in the other. "Oh, Gods," he murmured, watching Merlin come to terms with the full use of his limbs. "I'm a poor storyteller. Er. Here, try and get this down you."

Merlin ate the concoction delicately, not daring to complain about the soggy chunks hidden at the bottom or the way it tasted like grass and leaves. He didn't eat it all, but Balinor seemed pleased enough as he took the bowl away from him and finished the rest of it.

"How do you feel?"

Merlin shrugged, but there was definitely a different air to him. He seemed more alert and there was a hint of colour to his cheeks that had appeared while he'd slept and healed. He was pleased that the world was making sense again, and he could think clear thought. He no longer took extra care when he shifted himself on the ground or wrapped his cloak around him.

"You're not frightened of me," Balinor said slowly.

"Uh-uh."

"Huh," he said, surprised. "I'm Balinor."

"Merlin."

"I know."

"Huh," Merlin mimicked.

The two shared a small smile. Merlin's was goofy and bright and Balinor's was carefree but with exasperation, because he couldn't help but notice his son was too trusting. He hadn't been inundated with the questions he had expected.

Balinor discarded the bowl that had taken him hours to conjure (probably from a distant village, he thought) and wiped his hands on his dark breeches. "How do you feel?" he asked again.

Merlin nodded and Balinor grunted his acknowledgment, kicking dirt over the smouldering fire and pushing away his exhaustion. He hadn't slept.

"We've got some walking to do. You'll feel better with the morning air."

"I don't want to go back to that cave!" Merlin cried suddenly. He didn't slur now, but there was a wobble to his voice that was laced with the last traces of the suppressant.

Balinor arched an eyebrow. "We're going to Camelot," he said, and laughed when Merlin jumped to his feet in an instant. The boy swayed slightly and took a few minutes to find his balance, and Balinor laughed again. "Take it slow, alright? God knows how long you were on that bed."

The Dragonlord looked to the sky, and then he pointed east, muttered something about the Druids and began gathering his items, shoving them roughly in the pockets of his coat he had gathered from Merlin's feet. The young warlock waited impatiently, giddy with excitement.

"Come on, then. No point hanging around any longer."

They walked for a while at a slow pace that still had Merlin skipping every couple of steps to keep in stride with Balinor, who he didn't know, but who he was putting his faith in completely. His magic agreed with this man, and his senses compelled him to stay close. Merlin listened and trusted it and allowed himself to be guided through the trees.

Occasionally, Balinor would offer to carry the boy, but Merlin was so determined to get home that he always shook his head and walked a little faster as if to prove a point. The strange, rotten food he had been given provided some added strength, but he still ached, and he was more than aware of his bruises.

"Do you like living with Gaius, Merlin?" Balinor asked after a while.

Merlin's head bobbed with the most genuine of smiles. It was the first time he had seen the boy look so bright.

"You like Camelot?"

"I like Gaius," he answered in a strange voice with a tiny shrug. Camelot was okay – it wasn't Ealdor, but it was okay. "And Arthur," he added in an even lower voice.

"Pendragon?"

"He's a Prince," Merlin offered uncertainly.

Balinor had to laugh. "Right. Of course."

"How d'ya know I live with Gaius?" Merlin asked, and Balinor very nearly burst out in spontaneous applause that Merlin had sense to sound concerned.

"I've known Gaius a long time. How about you? Have you any another friends?"

Merlin, appeased with the answer he had been given, nodded happily. "I got Will, though I haven't seen him for a little bit."

"Why not?"

"He lives in Ealdor."

"What about in Camelot, though?"

Merlin thought of Morgana and what he had felt in her house. The magic had been strong. It had called out to him, wrapped him up and consumed him, but it hadn't been unpleasant. Morgana had been nice to him, but remembering Morgana and her kindness and Ealdor made him think of his mother, and the light Balinor had noticed in his eyes faded. Merlin shrugged.

"Morgana."

In his inexperience with children, Balinor went for the safe option: a joke. "A girl, eh?"

Merlin bit the inside of his cheek and dipped his head in a half-nod.

"Does she know you have magic?"

Merlin shook his head. He reached behind him to pull the hood to his cloak up over his head, tightened the fastenings around his neck, and shivered.

"Who does, Merlin?"

Merlin didn't answer for a while, but when he did his voice was small and frightened. "Gaius."

"Does Will?"

Merlin shook his head again.

"Alright, son," he huffed, a little awkward.

Silence overcame them again. They stopped twice for short periods, walked some more, and sighed with relief when Balinor announced that they had passed the Camelot border and were nearing a small village they could rest in for the night.

After that, Merlin allowed Balinor to carry him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So it would appear that I truly suck at multitasking – when it comes to FanFiction, at least. I've been trying to bang out this chapter for days, and I've also been struggling to edit and re-write the previous chapter because it lacks certain realism, and the action isn't as on point as it should be. I had trouble writing it in the first place, but after some much needed advice, I'm getting there. Slowly. Really slowly.

I finished this first, so here it is. I don't think re-reading Chapter 18 will be particularly necessary, but I'll let you know when I'm happy with it.

So.

Some of you may not agree with how I've portrayed Balinor, but in _The Last Dragonlord_ I feel that he's a little crazy, what with resorting to live in a cave and all and not having a real home for nigh on 20 years. Here, it would have been 6 to 7, maybe 8 years from when Uther used him to capture and betray Kilgharrah and when he escaped from Camelot.

Yes, he's still a broken man (even more so now Hunith is dead), but he hasn't hit rock bottom like he had in 2x13. He's not the angry prat in the cave who refuses to save Camelot. 6 years brooding and 20 years brooding before finding your son have different results, of course. He's a better person here and he's got the added spark he had in _The Last Dragonlord_ when he found out he had Merlin.

Agree or disagree, let me know.

In other news: I'm so attached to this that I've got a sequel in my head and I even know how it's going to begin and how it's going to end, but I'm having trouble figuring out how I'll be getting from A to B. We will get there. Would anybody be interested?

And furthermore: OHMYGOD DID YOU SEE THE FOURTH SERIES PREMIERE? I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE. ALL THE MERTHUR! ALL THE AGNST AND THE KNIGHTS AND MORGANA AND OHMYGOD. IS IT NEXT SATURDAY YET?

Yeah...

It was cool, y'know.

So there we go.

Thank you for sticking by this fic!

Nik


	20. XX

**Disclaimer: **_Merlin_ is produced by Shine Television for the BBC and belongs to Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps.

* * *

><p><em>Gaius,<em>

_Have Merlin. Safe. Lower town market at the midnight toll on the third day._

_Balinor_

It was the letter that Gaius clutched as if his very existence depended on it while he hovered behind a large market stall in the darkness, waiting.

It was the letter that Gaius all but kissed as if it were a message from the gods themselves when Merlin rushed towards him with a blinding smile and hugged his middle tightly and Gaius could do nothing but grin and grip Merlin in the same fashion.

It was the letter that Gaius scrunched into a ball when his hand rested on the back of the young warlock's head and the other patted his shoulder clumsily, and it was the letter Gaius dropped when they began laughing with complete abandon into the night air because they were happier than they had been in weeks, a familiar sense tightening their chests telling them that they were home.

"My boy!"

"Ow, Gaius. Hurts," Merlin gasped, but he was still laughing, too.

Gaius let Merlin go. "Oh."

"S'ok."

Balinor, whose own chest was also tightening but with a feeling that made him seethe with jealousy, cleared his throat and lay a hand on Merlin's other shoulder. "Gaius. I've done what I can, but I can only heal so much," he said. "We're exhausted."

"Right," Gaius nodded, grinning at Balinor. "Come on, then."

**:-:-:-:**

Miraculously, they made it to the court physician's room without any questions. The guards were all too trusting of Gaius, and they'd seen him with the little boy before; they simply nodded as the trio passed, and Gaius smiled and Merlin nodded back, and they took little interest of the tall, rugged man who accompanied them.

"I don't like how easy that was," Balinor said anxiously as Gaius closed the door behind them.

"You don't have to worry," Gaius assured. "Are you tired?"

"We both are," he admitted glumly.

"Where have you been staying?"

"The village, east of the castle, about 12 leagues away, that one. Last night."

Balinor was trying not to remember how fitful his sleep had been in the village they had found the night before. He had written Gaius the note, found a willing runner, paid him an obscene amount of money, and then he had crawled into the opposite bed to Merlin's. The boy's steady breathing had lulled him to sleep, but he dreamt relentlessly of being stripped of his skin on the pyre in Camelot.

Thankfully, Gaius didn't seem too intent on asking many questions.

"You can have the bed," Gaius said, gesturing to the cot at the far end of the room. "I'll fetch Merlin some ointment. Is there anything you need, Balinor?"

Balinor shook his head and let himself drift towards the other side of the room. It was fine now. They were in Camelot. Merlin was being tended to by Gaius, who, Balinor had to remind himself, was the only person he trusted Merlin with, even if it meant their lives were at stake – literally. He tucked away the rest of his conflicting emotions.

"You'll be alright if I sleep, Merlin?" he asked.

Merlin nodded happily, already having seated himself in a large chair as if it had been designed particularly for him. He was home.

"He's got his room, up there," Gaius said, "and I've got enough work to do tonight, anyway."

"Thanks, Gaius," Balinor said, and with one last look towards Merlin who was all but bouncing in the seat, he collapsed onto the cot. He fell asleep almost instantly, just as Gaius asked Merlin a question and the boy began babbling merrily as if he'd never left the old man.

**:-:-:-:**

Arthur was still ignoring his father, and Uther had taken to ignoring him too, still insistent that Arthur would apologise when he realised how childish and selfish he was.

He desperately wanted to talk to Gaius. Not to admit that he was wrong and he couldn't get Merlin back – never would he admit that – but because he was lonely and bored and his father wasn't the only person ignoring him. Morgana had joined in with the game, too.

He eventually decided that enough was enough, and that being a prince meant he could quite literally get away with anything, so he had no qualms about creeping out of his chambers long after curfew and the midnight chimes with the full intention of intruding on Gaius. He was allowed to talk to people, wasn't he?

It was a little surprising when he didn't find Gaius in his chambers, but a younger, long-haired man with grey streaks in his hair snoring on the cot Arthur assumed Gaius usually slept on, but the Prince simply thought that he was somebody Gaius was treating, so he crept skilfully across the room and into Merlin's old room.

The old man wasn't there. Arthur found himself standing at the edge of Merlin's bed watching the same Merlin who he had been defying his father for dream with heavy interest. The surprise of Merlin being back in Camelot hadn't quite sunk in, let alone begun to subside.

"Arthur!"

"Merlin? Don't be an idiot, Merlin. Merlin? Are you pretending?"

He was almost sure that Merlin had woken up, but the boy unconsciously tightened an arm around his knees under the white sheets and sighed heavily.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Idiot. Wake up!"

"No soup," the warlock whimpered. "Dun' wanna. Please."

"There isn't any," Arthur replied with a frown.

"Everywhere," Merlin whimpered again. "Hurts."

Arthur moved to the side of the bed and stared down at his friend. That was when he really looked at Merlin.

He saw the once flayed wrists, now healed but still with terrifying marks, and the bruising on his neck and his cheeks and the closed but red jagged scar on his forehead. He saw the dark circles underneath Merlin's eyes and the hair that stuck out of place even more than usual and he saw the scrapes of Merlin's knees that were uncovered by his shorts and poking through the underneath of the sheets, and he saw the way that Merlin looked like he hadn't eaten for at least a year.

When he had been ill, his father had sat on the bed with him, and a year before that when he'd fallen off a horse and Gaius had ordered him to stay in bed, again, Morgana had helped tend to his broken arm and his cuts and had laid next to him for added comfort, so it was quite rational when Arthur decided that Merlin needed someone and slipped between the sheets.

He curled like a surprisingly lithe cat around the tight ball that was Merlin, hoping that Gaius would come back soon, because Arthur wasn't an expert – he didn't really know how to comfort or make people better, and copying other people seemed like the right thing to do. Hesitantly, he lay a hand on Merlin's shoulder, the other falling limply between Arthur's chest and Merlin's unruly raven hair.

"No," Merlin muttered fiercely as he unknowingly wriggled into the Prince. "No soup, y'prat," he muttered again, this time a little more agitatedly, and a frown took a hold of his face.

"There isn't any," Arthur whispered back. He was angry, and it frightened him, because Merlin was so hurt and dreaming bad dreams that he desperately wanted to do something to hurt the person who had hurt his only friend, to do something that would help and make him feel better, but he couldn't, and he didn't know what had happened and he didn't know what to do.

Arthur _hated _not being in control.

Arthur was brave, but he wasn't a true leader – not yet. He still had to learn that from his father. He still had to learn to become a better Prince with a better heart. He had to learn to love and care for his people and he had to grow with them, and that included Merlin, of course it did, but that meant that it wasn't supposed to include being very angry and hurting people. He had to be just and fair and he had to learn it alone. He couldn't learn it from his father.

That was what Brigit had told him, anyway.

"I don't want to," Merlin mumbled.

"It's fine," he said to Merlin. "I promise."

"I don't... Oh... Mmm. I know. Thank you," the smaller boy mumbled, and then he took a shuddering breath as Arthur put his other hand on Merlin's hair. His breathing eventually became steadier and his grip on his knees slackened, and Arthur found himself pushing himself out a little so Merlin could move comfortably.

There was a tiny, proud smile on the Prince's face, because somebody was dreaming about him; it made the hurt and the anger disappear for a little while, even if it was only Merlin the Idiot.

It made good blackmail, too, Arthur thought with a devious smile. Merlin would never be able to deny it.

Arthur got comfortable and settled next to Merlin. "I'm happy you came home," he admitted begrudgingly in a whisper after a while. "I've been so _bored_."

Merlin didn't answer. He was still and slept peacefully, his dreams never to be remembered.

"Night, then. Don't let me sleep long, you idiot."

His last thought before he closed his eyes was that when Merlin was better, he was going to take him to see the knights whether he liked it or not, so the next time Arthur wasn't around and somebody wanted to bloody his friend up, Merlin would be able to defend himself properly.


	21. XXI

**Disclaimer: **_Merlin_ is produced by Shine Television for the BBC and belongs to Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps.

**A/N:** This chapter is happy and somewhat fun, because it's been so bleak recently that I thought you all deserved something nice. Call it character development. I love you all.

* * *

><p>When Arthur woke, there was birdsong ringing through his ears, a hand in his, sun streaming through the window, and warm breath tickling his face, and when he opened his eyes and realised where he was, his cheeks filled with the deepest pink. Merlin was pressed against him, seeking comfort as he snored lightly, and their fingers were entwined on the pillow between their heads.<p>

"Nnnnnurgh," was Arthur's intelligent response. He gently and sleepily prised his fingers out of Merlin's and rolled over, remaining like that for a few minutes on his back and gathering himself, and then with one last look back to the still-sleeping Merlin (while remembering last night's thoughtful promise of possible blackmail) he slid out of the bed and crept quietly through the room and then down through the court physician's quarters.

It was barely dawn. His father always said this time of day was something called an 'ungodly hour', so Arthur decided that was what it was.

He crept past the strange man who was still in Gaius' bed from the night before. He was flat on his back and catching flies. He then passed Gaius, who was also asleep but in his chair. Both men were snoring loudly, and Arthur wondered why he was even bothering to be so quiet.

Arthur hadn't meant to stay _all night,_ and now that he had, he couldn't stop to pester Gaius like he had planned to, because if Brigit found Arthur's bed and chambers empty, all hell would break loose. His father... Oh, dear God. His father.

That sent him running. It was all Merlin's fault!

Arthur was in his bed for an hour before Brigit bustled in, calling his name in a sing-song voice and holding his breakfast, and she was happily surprised to see Arthur smiling for once. Arthur was so happy he even spoke to his father after he was dressed. He didn't quite apologise, but he spoke to him nevertheless. He said, "Hello, Father," in a really bright voice that made Uther stop in the middle of the corridor and fall behind the knights he had been walking with, staring after Arthur who was going in the opposite direction with a curious look on his face.

He went through the day like that. He saw Gaius – without Merlin – and he briefly worried whether Merlin had left already, but Gaius had the same smile Arthur had on his face, so Arthur hoped that Merlin was still there.

It was a good day. His father even let him have a mock fight with a wooden sword especially forged for him, and Uther had said that if Arthur proved himself worthy, he could begin to train soon and become the best warrior in all of Camelot. Arthur promised that he would. He saw Morgana after that, and they didn't even bother to annoy each other, because after Arthur told her that Merlin was home she was happy, too. They went riding with their fathers in the hot weather and had fun, before Uther and Gorlois convened for council and Arthur decided he had been keeping his distance for long enough.

His day got even better when Arthur pushed his way into the court physician's chambers and scared the life out of him. "Gaius," he started loftily as he walked in uninvited later that day, "you _do_ know that I am able to keep secrets, don't you?"

The old man jumped violently and his head snapped away from Balinor, who Arthur was expertly ignoring for creating such a racket last night – his eyes were trained on his father's most trusted advisor, save for Gorlois.

"Yes, Arthur," Gaius replied carefully, his expression unreadable.

"So," Arthur said, feeling very grown-up as he drew himself up to his full seven-year-old height and puffed out his tiny chest, "why haven't you told me Merlin is in his room today?"

"Oh."

"Yes. _Oh_, indeed," Arthur repeated, trying to imitate the impressive tone his father always used when he was extremely angry.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the stranger struggling to keep a straight face, a shaky smile on his strange face that was both terrifying and trusting, but Arthur continued to refuse to openly acknowledge the man kept his stance as he waited for Gaius to form some kind of coherent reply.

"Let him see the boy – it's clear he's intruded already," Balinor said eventually with a wave of his hand. There was definitely a type of vague amusement dancing in his eyes that he was having trouble to hide, and Arthur's face was becoming hot as he became increasingly annoyed that this stranger who believed he could laugh at him – he, Arthur, the Prince!

"Oh, alright then! _Fine!_" Gaius said with a flustered wave of his own hands in the general of whatever heaven there was above them. "Go and see him! Again!"

Arthur shook his head, and Gaius was staggered that Arthur wasn't grinning in his victory and all but skipping up the steps to Merlin's room. "I've seen him already," the Prince declared, his little chest still puffed out and his shoulders squared somewhat. "I wanna know why he's so bloodied up and why he didn't wake up when I was telling him that he was an idiot."

"Well, what it is –"

"Alright, Arthur," Balinor said, dragging a chair behind him towards the Prince. "Gaius, get the kid a stool. We've got some explaining to do."

"Do you think that's... well – er, do you think that's wise, Balinor?"

"Oh, yes," the Dragonlord said importantly, slapping his palms to his knees.

"Why?"

"Why not? If the boy believes he can keep a secret, I don't see why we have to lie. Anyway," he said, finally tearing his eyes away from a pale Arthur to regard the other man, "it's not like we'll be staying long. If his father does find out, well. Damn the consequences! I won't be around to witness them, and neither will Merlin."

Arthur opened his mouth to ask what the brown-haired, frightening man meant, but Balinor held up a finger to silence him. Arthur's chest deflated a little.

"Where's the stool, Gaius?" Balinor asked.

"I'm afraid we don't have one – your son, ah, _broke _the only one in my possession."

A proud look crossed Balinor's face for a fleeting moment, and then he shrugged. "Fine, let His Royal Highness stand, I don't care."

"He told me he didn't break it!" Arthur cried.

"Well, he did, so, there," Balinor said, becoming incredibly exasperated. "He's strong. Do you want to know this or not, boy?"

"Yes!"

"So be quiet."

Arthur nodded, and Gaius found he could do nothing but hold his breath and hope for the best as the last Dragonlord told the Prince of Camelot all that had happened: Kane, the renegade Druids, Merlin's mother, Balinor's rescue, and their return to Camelot – and he said it all without breathing a word of Merlin's magic, and Gaius couldn't help but pat Balinor on the shoulder gratefully when he was finished. After all – it would be Merlin's secret to tell when he was old enough.

Arthur didn't utter a word during Balinor's tale. He jerked his head in different directions and shrugged his shoulders and smiled and marvelled all at the right times, feeling like he was being told a story like the ones his father told him about the times before the Great Purge in Camelot and legends of old kings.

"But _why_ can't I tell? I can help! My father can help Merlin! He'll put the man back in the dungeons!"

"It doesn't quite work like that, sire," Gaius tried to explain when Balinor left the room to wake Merlin. It was late, and the boy needed to get back into some sort of routine.

"But _why_?"

"He has magic. He is dangerous."

"Father says that about everyone. I'm not scared, you know. You think I'm scared, don't you?"

"No –" Gaius started to say, but then Merlin came down the stairs rubbing his eyes and saw Arthur, and then Arthur had forgotten everything and was suddenly dragging Merlin to the training field, declaring something about how big of an idiot Merlin was and that he didn't care if Merlin was better or not because Merlin _had_ to learn how to hit somebody properly and that it would actually do him some good. Merlin visibly paled at the thought of committing such violence, but he went nevertheless, absurdly pleased in his tiredness that Arthur was okay and still his friend.

Balinor and Gaius were left in the room with bemused faces.

"Well that went well," Balinor said cheerfully.

"_Well_? It went well? Gods, Balinor."

Balinor smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I couldn't resist adding "damn the consequences"!


	22. XXII

**Disclaimer: **_Merlin_ is produced by Shine Television for the BBC and belongs to Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps.

* * *

><p>And so Merlin began his recovery.<p>

It was tough for all. He had nightmares every time he closed his eyes, always muttering and whimpering brokenly in his sleep, and he only calmed when Gaius would creep into the room and gently pat him on the shoulder. The one touch would soothe him, but it never rid him of the dreams in which everybody had a part. Merlin dreamt of Arthur, always Arthur, and sometimes he dreamt of his mother, Gaius, and even Balinor, but he dreamt of Kane just as much as he did Arthur. In his dreams, Kane was just as scary and evil and as much of a Bad Person as he had been in the cave. Kane lurked in every shadow, waiting and watching, and sometimes he managed to catch Merlin. One or twice he took Arthur. Sometimes Merlin managed to fight him off with his magic, and sometimes, Merlin dreamt he had no magic at all, and when he had no magic, he and Arthur were caught and never rescued.

He did not stop dreaming as quickly as he would have liked, but that was okay. Gaius said that it was something that came with time, and although Merlin didn't understand, he trusted Gaius when he explained it would get better.

The wounds faded faster than the relentless dreams, and the pastes and ointments Gaius created helped. Merlin's wrists now no longer ached or itched, his bruises became mere shadows and then eventually nothing on his ivory skin, and the marks on his forehead and his legs disappeared altogether. He had very few scars.

Balinor had believed in and trusted only Gaius to heal his son, and the old man did everything in his power, but it was really Camelot that helped Merlin. It gave Merlin stability and a sense of _home_ that he had only ever found in Ealdor before. He made friends in Camelot and considered them family. He had found a best friend in Arthur, an older sister in Morgana, and a father in Gaius.

Balinor still hadn't told Merlin the truth of their relationship. Merlin was still grieving for Hunith, and he yearned for her in a way that Balinor's presence could not compensate with.

The last Dragonlord decided to keep his silence for a while longer. He spent three nights holed up in the court physician's chambers under the alias of a poor peasant who Gaius had taken it upon himself to treat. After heavy discussions, arguments and magic very nearly being used in exasperation, Balinor left with the promise that he would be back by the end of the month.

Gaius said they were all lucky buggers that they hadn't been caught out. Balinor said that everybody else simply had mental afflictions and there had truly been nothing to worry about. Merlin didn't understand what they were talking about, but he said that they were all stupid, too, and Balinor ruffled his hair and laughed loudly.

"I'll be back soon, Merlin," he'd said before he had crept into the night.

"Alright."

"See you soon, alright?"

"Alright."

"Alright, son. I'll keep in touch with the news. Traders like to talk – remember that, kid. I owe them a great deal for their gossip."

It left Merlin and Gaius falling back into the schedule they had formed before Kane had given himself up to Uther. Together they attended the sick, visited Morgana and her mother, shopped for supplies, picked herbs and read books, but it was mainly Gaius who did the reading. Merlin enjoyed looking at the diagrams and listening to Gaius explain them patiently to him.

Gaius seemed happier, but there were also times when he seemed as if he were worrying and waiting for something else to happen. Merlin clung to Gaius, but now Gaius clung to him, too.

Arthur spent time with Merlin when he could sneak away from the King and when the council were called upon. He had kept his promise – he hadn't said a word to anybody about the man in the old physician's chambers. He didn't even ask where Balinor had disappeared to.

"I think he's my pa, but they won't say anything," Merlin had said quietly as he and Arthur sat together on the courtyard steps the afternoon after Balinor had left. "Gaius plays Pretend when I ask. He pretends not to hear."

"You mean you don't know?"

Merlin shook his head.

"It's alright, Merlin," Arthur said as reassuringly as he could. "I don't have one of my parents. I don't have a mother."

"I don't have any parents," Merlin mumbled.

"S'ok," Arthur said, throwing an arm around Merlin's shoulder. "You got me and Gaius. C'mon – let's go and watch the knights beat each other up."

Merlin didn't like the training field. There was a lot of fighting and nose bleeds and men being thrown to the ground, and it seemed like the men used the training sessions with the First Knight as a good reason to have a fight. Gaius said it was necessary if Camelot were ever to have a chance of being defended. Merlin said it was silly. Arthur said it was absolutely brilliant and that he would be the one leading the army one day. Merlin didn't like the thought of that.

Arthur was handling the wooden sword his father had given him every other day; he wasn't fighting, but he was learning several manoeuvres Sir Baethan believed he would be able to manage, and it meant that Arthur sometimes broke out into spontaneous postures and began lurching about, even when he was sitting. It was _very _annoying.

He tried teaching Merlin, but Merlin wasn't interested. Merlin watched instead and smiled reassuringly when Arthur looked over at him for encouragement. Arthur delighted in having somebody to share his days with when Uther wasn't demanding Arthur learn the ways of a prince to make the transition into becoming a king one day.

A few weeks into his so-called training, Arthur dealt such a heavy blow that the wooden sword broke. Sir Baethan gave Arthur a short blunt sword, but Arthur didn't have the strength to hold it, so he was given another wooden sword. Arthur had been so elated one minute and then disappointed and indignant the next that Merlin laughed until his eyes were wet. A disgruntled Arthur hit him with the wood and told him to shut up.

"One day, I'll get the muscle, and then you'll be sorry. I'll show you. I will."

Merlin laughed again.

Teasing one another became a part of their relationship, and Arthur found it much easier to wind Merlin up now Merlin talked a lot more than he had before he had been taken from Camelot. He enjoyed the surly retorts, and Merlin enjoyed thinking them up.

They would run hand-in-hand past the king and his knights to explore the castle. They went to forbidden places and annoyed the servants and, on one afternoon, Arthur even pulled Merlin into Camelot's vaults after much hiding, giggling, shushing and failing to be quiet, and together they had peered through the iron bars and pointed mysterious objects out to one other. Arthur pointed out the objects that looked the most dangerous and made up stories about where they came from, and Merlin pointed out the objects that sung to him with their magic and tried to draw him in with his own, explaining why he thought they were prettier than others. They spent hours there, only creeping away when they heard the knights come into a nearby hallway and walk towards them.

Uther wasn't all-too pleased that Merlin was back. Gaius had proved that the boy would never get in the way of his duties, but the boy was almost everywhere Gaius went. That was, when he wasn't with Arthur. All Arthur talked about was _Merlin says..._ and _Merlin likes to_... and _When Merlin... _and although Uther appeared pleased Arthur had some sort of friend for once, he didn't understand what Arthur saw in the commoner Merlin that he didn't see in Morgana or the sons and daughters of the knights.

This time, when Uther asked about the boy, Gaius didn't make any definitive comments about whether Merlin would be remaining in Camelot permanently or not, and even Uther noticed that his old friend seemed worried.

Everybody did.

* * *

><p><strong>Some news:<strong> I'll no longer be able to do the usual 'fast and furious' updates. My best bet is that they will come on Fridays and/or Saturdays if every other day of the week goes without a new chapter, because Fridays and Saturdays are going to be my only days off from work as of October 16. It won't last forever, but it will be that way for several weeks. I'll try my best, but bear with me!

**Also:** I'm proud of this story, and what we've accomplished so far. There are, obviously, some parts that I'm not too happy with, but once I have completed this, I will be going back and investing hours of labour into every chapter. I will do my best to make sure that each and every character acts and speaks exactly as they should, whether they are 6-years-old, 9-years-old, or 50-years-old – whatever. I will correct every single typo and mistake. I want this to be right. I've been overwhelmed with the responses I've gotten, and I love and thank each and every one of you, because there are times where I've very nearly given up but then I'm given a new review or a favourite, and I'm off plotting and writing again. Cheesy, but honest! Thank you for your support.

There is still a sequel in mind and I'm still trying to figure out how to get from A to B. I will do it.

Thank you, again!

Nik


	23. XXIII

**Disclaimer: **_Merlin_ is produced by Shine Television for the BBC and belongs to Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps.

**A/N:** In my large head I imagine there to be some level of friendship between Kilgharrah and Balinor, and despite Kilgharrah having to obey Balinor's will, I think they see one another as an equal – they are the last dragon and Dragonlord, after all, and I'm sure that would create some kind of bond between them, no matter what has happened in the past.

Even if it wasn't that way, they would at least have to respect one another whether they wanted to or not, if not for being the last of their kind but out of respect for being creatures of magic.

* * *

><p>When Balinor left the physician's chambers and walked away with the assurances of returning, he decided to push his luck with Camelot's sovereign unknowing hospitality one more time. He found his way into the dark, cold depths of the castle, and braced himself to pay another old friend a visit. It was easy, in the end, especially when you had an undeniable bond with another creature of magic and you didn't need a torch to lead the way. Balinor allowed the lights of magic to guide him.<p>

Upon his arrival the Great Dragon swooped to the ground in one great, surprisingly graceful movement and lowered himself into a bow. It was more out of respect than obligation.

"You are not angry," Balinor said as he straightened up from his own bow. He'd half-expected to have to throw up shields in order to keep himself from being burnt alive.

"You played a part in my capture, Dragonlord, but it was not your fault. Uther betrayed your trust."

"I was wrong to trust him. He betrayed us all."

"Yes. He knew I could not refuse you, and that you – you, Balinor, that you cannot deny we are kin. We are not to be blamed for who we are. We are one, and yet still, we are alone. We have both lost every one of our kind."

Balinor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Kilgharrah had not changed. "I am still guilty," he said.

"Yes, I suppose you are, and yet you have still come. I thought you had died, warlock."

"I have been trying, but nobody will let me," Balinor replied dully.

Kilgharrah smiled somewhat ruefully. "You cannot have everything."

"No, I suppose you can't."

Kilgharrah settled onto the stone of the cave and pulled his mighty wings to his body as he huffed hotly. "But to talk of your want to die is not why you have sought me out once again. You were always reckless."

"I was. I still am."

"You are risking a lot by being in Camelot, Balinor. You have not come to free me, though, and I know you do not seek forgiveness – it is not yours to ask. You come for the boy, Emrys, yes?"

"Yes. My son."

"Your successor, one day, perhaps."

"Kilgharrah, I come for your counsel. We are both angry at the tyrant who serves us life sentences, but we can't allow it to be our pririoty."

"No. It is my second priority," Kilgharrah said with little humour. "What have you come to ask?"

"Merlin. He is back in Camelot. I have left him in the care of Gaius for a short period."

"Yes, the old one came to me twice for help I could not provide. You were the one to save him from the renegade."

"I did, but I intend to leave with him and keep him away from Camelot for the foreseeable future. At least, until the time is right for him to return and lead the life he must. I know of his destiny. He already has formed an unlikely bond with Prince Arthur."

"He would be happy here," Kilgharrah reasoned.

"He wouldn't be safe."

"He wouldn't be any better off with you," Kilgharrah countered. "The old one who the young warlock resides with can be foolish, Balinor, but Emrys would be cared for."

"I want to care for Merlin," the Dragonlord replied through tight lips.

"As is your right."

"As is my right," Balinor repeated, nodding. "And I ask you whether you believe it wise for him to return to the country with me, after I make... arrangements. You must know."

"I do, as you also know the boy will not have a settled life."

"No. I can't provide him that, but I can prepare him like nobody else can."

"And you will leave with him anyway," Kilgharrah said knowingly, his tone laced with something between exasperation and amusement.

"I will."

Kilgharrah stretched his large, golden wings leisurely and cocked his head. "Then you have your answer. The old one will not approve of it, but you are Merlin's father."

"I thought you would come to that conclusion, friend."

"It is already set in stone. You cannot deny what has been written since the beginning of time."

There was a small silence in which they regarded one another closely for a while as if they were speaking secretly, and then Balinor nodded. "Well, Kilgharrah. Farewell."

"Balinor?"

The Dragonlord turned back, and waited.

"You are doing the right thing," the dragon said, dipping his snout closer to his Dragonlord. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Emrys will be a better man for it, and he, Arthur and Albion will be forever remembered."

"Thank you, old friend. I do not regret seeing you again. I promise that when the time is right and Merlin is ready, I will release you. I swear it."

"I look forward to the day."

**:-:-:-:**

Balinor spent two weeks searching for the Druids in the Forest of Ascetir and travelling to Ealdor in order to ensure Merlin's safety.

Once found, the Druids promised their prophesied saviour in Emrys life-long protection should he ever need it, and they asked for nothing in return; they'd had Balinor's allegiance long before Merlin had been born. However, the Druids were tricky people, and Balinor didn't trust them completely.

In Ealdor, Matthew promised that Hunith's home would remain unoccupied and that it would provide as a safe haven for Balinor and his son the moment they were out of Camelot and riding into the kingdom of the Escetia, where Ealdor lay.

Balinor stayed in Ealdor for one night and no more. He, too, was grieving for Hunith, and sleeping in the home where she had raised their son alone proved to be too painful. There was evidence of her everywhere, even weeks after her death, and Merlin had also left his own footprints. There was a footprint in the form of Merlin's supposed best friend named Will, who asked endless, annoying questions about Merlin: why he was in Camelot and if he had any new friends and if he was going to stay there forever and whether he would ever come back to see him again, and Balinor could only thank the Gods that Merlin was more reserved than the mousey-haired child who bounded after him.

When Balinor left Ealdor, he bought and stored supplies and followed the traders for their gossip and their hospitality. It turned out that news spread like wildfire outside of Camelot, too, and he finally found himself having to believe that he and Merlin would really have to live an unsettled life on the move if they were to stay have a chance of staying safe. He had no choice. Merlin had to be prepared, and the only person who could do that was Balinor himself.

He spent the rest of his time considering that. He and Merlin would always be looking over their shoulders, with or without the protection of the Druids, and they would never have a place to call home. Balinor would be the only person the boy would have in the whole world for years, and he'd have to serve as a friend, confidant, father, brother and teacher. It would be demanding. It would be gruelling.

It would be brilliant. _They_ would be brilliant.

He would raise his son.

By the end of the month, Balinor had no qualms with returning to Camelot for Merlin.


	24. XXIV

**Disclaimer: **_Merlin_ is produced by Shine Television for the BBC and belongs to Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps.

**A/N: **I have no excuse for this appallingly late update, so I'm not going to bore you with one (although I will say one word: work. And that kind of defeats the object, doesn't it?)

* * *

><p>The message from Balinor came all too soon. He would wait for Merlin on the lower town's edge on the sixth night at dusk, just before Camelot's curfew.<p>

"You must pack all of your belongings into here," Gaius was saying as he brandished a brown leather backpack. "I picked it up from the market. Do you have the book I gave you, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded despondently and pointed to his room with one of his small fingers, where the magic book Gaius had given him the night before lay under the loose floorboards. It was important that it had to stay a Very Big Secret.

"Good. That will help."

"Can't I keep it here?"

"It will be good to have it with you."

_Good_. It seemed to be all Gaius said recently. It was good that Balinor's message had come. It would be good that Merlin would find a home with him. It would be good that Merlin had the magic book. It would be good that Merlin would be able to travel. It would be good that Merlin would no longer have to remain cooped up in Camelot. It was good that he was being set free—like a bloody bird, he wanted to add, but he didn't dare swear in front of Gaius.

Merlin only understood half of what the old man said, but apparently everything was just good. It was never fine. It was simply good that Merlin would never have to see Kane again. It would be good for Merlin to meet more people with magic and travel with his father. It would be good that Merlin would see Will again. It would be good to visit Ealdor.

(Merlin realised much later that Gaius had said visit, and not stay.)

It wasn't good that he was leaving Arthur, but—

"Okay. Good," Merlin mumbled back anyway, though Gaius didn't seem to notice and gave no reaction to the simple, stupid word. Instead, he began packing the leather bag neatly with deft fingers (though Merlin owned very little) because Merlin certainly wasn't going to do it himself.

Merlin stood at the door of the chambers as he watched the grey man move about the room. Gaius never met his eyes, and he seemed to hunch over more than he usually did; seemed older, more withdrawn, less interested in Merlin and more interested in saying 'good'.

Merlin only usually understood half of what the old man said on the most average of days, but today he didn't understand a word. He didn't understand why he had to leave. Gaius had only said that Balinor was coming to fetch him and that he would take him to Ealdor for a short while. That was it. Gaius hadn't mentioned anything about returning to Camelot, or seeing him again, or seeing Arthur. Or seeing anybody, for that matter.

"I'll have to get you some food from the kitchens, I suppose," the physician muttered as he fastened the bag. "I can only assume Balinor will take care of your travelling arrangements, although I can't see you walking over the border..."

It was as if he was talking to himself, telling a great story. Merlin leant against the doorframe and listened, trying to understand, never interrupting. Maybe if he was quiet, Gaius would forget all about this mess.

But Gaius was quiet too, and as soon as he had huffed and seemed to realise that he could do nothing more with the brown pack than unnecessarily adjusting the straps, he scrubbed a hand over his face wearily and sat on his cot. He was silent for several minutes, then patted the space beside him. "Merlin... come away from the door. Sit here."

"On your bed?"

"Just for a moment," Gaius said.

Merlin came slowly, and hovered, and Gaius had to reach out for the boy's shoulder and gently pull him down.

"Now, you must understand," the old man said after a short breather, "that this is not your fault. You're not leaving because you've been bad, or because I don't want you anymore—because I do, do you hear?"

"So why do I have to leave Camelot?"

"It is for the best, Merlin." He sighed heavily. "Tell me something. I won't get mad. Why are you so upset about leaving?"

Merlin sniffed hard and wrapped his arms tightly around his middle. "I just..."

"You have a father now, Merlin," Gaius said gently. "He is your family."

"I have you! I have Arthur!" Merlin cried, and his voice broke, and he really, really hoped that he wouldn't start crying, even if he was sniffing and making a mess. "I have my own _bed_!"

"Balinor is your blood, Merlin."

"I don't care!"

"Don't you like him, Merlin? Is this what this is all about?"

"No. No!" Merlin's hands hit the mattress. "I just hoped that... was hoping... I hoped that _you_ were my father."

"Oh, Merlin..." Gaius drew the tiny boy into his arms and bit back a comment about he needed to eat more, because really, it wasn't healthy, and it was all too easy to wrap him up. He was the court physician, after all. "Merlin, you are the son I've never had. You are. You must remember that."

"Does that mean I can stay?" Merlin asked hopefully into Gaius' chest, his voice high and fragile and muffled in the clothes.

"No," Gaius whispered, torn between the desire to laugh and to cry along with Merlin. "I'm afraid you really do have to leave, my boy."

* * *

><p>Of course, it wasn't long until Arthur came looking for his best friend and saw a travelling pack and Merlin's red eyes.<p>

It took him a second less to figure out what was going on, though he said, "What in the name of Camelot is going on?" anyway, because it sounded intimidating and like his father and usually, his father was rewarded with an immediate response when he said such things in that way.

He didn't get the immediate response he was looking for.

"_Well?_"

"I have to go."

"_Why?_" Arthur demanded in the same outraged tone.

Gaius placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder, who shook it off viciously and held Merlin's wet blue eyes with his own.

"I thought we were friends!" Arthur cried, his face an expression of hurt and betrayal and all the Bad Feelings that Merlin hated most in the world and now felt responsible for.

"We are!" Merlin cried desperately in return as he reached for Arthur's hand, but the other boy had balled them both into tight, angry fists and Merlin had to close his palm around it instead and squeeze. "We are!"

"You said you didn't have to go! You said you were going to stay!"

"I don't want to go, but Balinor... my _father _says I must. He sent a message. Said I have to... Arthur, I tried, I did!"

"Stay with Gaius. Gaius wants you! He said you were staying!" Arthur shouted. He roughly yanked his fist from Merlin's hold and left Merlin pale and trembling to jab it accusingly at the court physician who had retreated to a corner and was now pretending to be busy with tidying his books.

The man made barely a sound.

Immediately, Arthur wanted to rush back to Merlin in guilt, but this was not something Arthur could fix with a familiar, reassuring touch. Arthur could not fix it by taking Merlin to watch knights fight with each other, either, nor by sneaking Merlin into secret places of Camelot that he wasn't supposed to know about. He couldn't take Merlin to his chambers and show him the big room and let Merlin play with him to make him feel better, and he couldn't sling an arm around his shoulders and tell him that it would be okay because he had him and Gaius. Arthur couldn't fix it. He couldn't go to his father and demand that he fix it, either, because that would be breaking a promise to Balinor and Gaius.

He couldn't make Merlin stay, not without getting them all into trouble.

Maybe he could hide Merlin... Morgana hid animals in her room all the—

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"No! It's stupid! _You're_ stupid!"

"I know."

"No you don't! You idiot!"

Merlin's lower lip began to wobble again, but he fought hard to control it.

"You_ idiot_!" Arthur shouted again. His cheeks were hot and red and his eyes were dry but they were blazing wildly, and he shook just as hard as Merlin. "You said Gaius promised!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered, because really, it was all he could say.

"You promised. You said."

Merlin took a hesitant step forward, reaching out for Arthur again, but his arm hung mid-air as if waiting for Arthur to reach out, too, because he didn't want to get thrown off again.

Arthur did, eventually.

"Erm... Gaius?" Merlin asked in a small, unsure voice as he clutched Arthur's fingers.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned to the man, bringing Arthur with him. "Can... can I go to the training field? With Arthur? Please."

Gaius eyed the two boys just as unsurely. "If that's what you want, Merlin. Make sure you're back before dark, though. You need sleep before you leave tomorrow."

Merlin gave a non-committal grunt, his interest focused on Arthur more than anything else, and then they left together, red-faced and, in Merlin's case, red-eyed.

For once, it was Merlin leading Arthur eagerly towards the fields, because Merlin knew that training dummies and swords and grass would make it all okay, if only for a while.

* * *

><p><strong>Another AN: **We have a few more chapters to go, and then I'm going to wrap this up. Then, I'll go back and edit chapters, tidy them up, fill in holes, and I'll finally start to be able to think of a potential sequel and crack on with my other abandoned fics.

Thank you, all of you, for sticking with this, and sorry again.

Nik


	25. XXV

After Merlin had dragged Arthur to the training field on the fifth day, he didn't return to the old physician's chambers.

On the sixth day, Arthur didn't leave his room.

Before Brigit entered his room every morning, she'd knock on the door. Sometimes Arthur would call out and sometimes he wouldn't, but the maid would always let herself in anyway. It was polite, she had explained patiently, to make yourself known to little princes, and it was good practice for when Arthur was old enough to lead hunting parties of his own. Such practice would help avoid embarrassment, she'd said, but she had never told him what he could possibly have to be embarrassed about.

When Brigit knocked on the door to his chambers on the sixth day, Arthur didn't call out, but Brigit pushed the door to let herself in anyway.

"Arthur?" she called out, after she had tried several times to open the door. For the life of her, it wouldn't move.

Next to Merlin, Arthur sat on his bed, feeling oddly pleased with himself. He'd woken up very early, and after he had shaken Merlin awake, he'd forced Merlin to help him push and pull at the desk near his window which he used to draw and do his work on—work which Geoffrey of Monmouth assigned him after they'd had a lesson they both knew he hadn't paid as much attention to as he should have done. There had been a pile of parchment on the desk which Arthur had still not finished, and he'd paid Geoffrey of Monmouth and the old man's likely disapproval no mind as the prince had thrown them to the floor. Merlin had frowned in the same way Arthur was used to Geoffrey of Monmouth frowning, and the black-haired boy had spent the next ten minutes collecting all of the bits of parchment and stacking them neatly on Arthur's bedside table.

"Your father will be angry," Merlin had said as he'd first began gathering the parchment. Arthur hadn't been entirely sure whether Merlin had been talking about Arthur's ingenious plan or the mess Arthur had made.

"We can't run away, you idiot," Arthur had replied as he'd stood before his desk with his hands on his hips, carefully contemplating the best way to move it. "The last time I tried they caught me before I got out the citadel." He'd turned away from the desk and looked down to Merlin, who was still scrambling on the floor with parchment around him. "Are you gonna help me or what?"

Eventually Merlin had helped, and Arthur was becoming increasingly proud of himself as he heard Brigit throw her weight against the door several times over.

"Arthur?" Brigit called again, panic rising in her voice. "Sire? Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said, because he knew he would find his father and his knights breaking down the door if he didn't let the maid know that he was alive. Arthur was confident that he stood a better chance of making his disappointment and his fury known to the whole castle if he managed to keep his desk against his door for as long as possible. Once they knew he was okay, they'd leave him and Merlin alone and his father would begin to promise all sorts just so that they would leave the room.

They didn't leave him alone, and Uther didn't promise all sorts.

"What in the name of Camelot is going on? Arthur! Open this door at once! _Now_!" his father bellowed less than half an hour later.

"No!" Arthur yelled back. "Tell Gaius that Merlin needs to stay! He can't leave! You will tell him to let Merlin stay in Camelot, Father, and then we will come out!"

"We?!"

Merlin whimpered and covered his ears. The king was nearly as frightening as Kane, who wasn't in Merlin's dreams so much anymore. It didn't make Kane any less scary, though. "I told you he'd be angry."

"Don't worry," Arthur said, bumping Merlin with his shoulder. "It's gonna work."

"You are seven years old!" Uther shouted from the other side of the door. "You do not _order_ the king!"

"I'm nearly eight!" Arthur shouted indignantly, just before four knights and one king pushed their combined weight against the door. It shoved the desk which had been put against it across the stone floor with great force, and the doors opened enough for Uther to be able to see into his son's chambers.

On the bed, Merlin still had his hands clamped over his ears and his knees tucked under his chin, while Arthur was beyond furious that the desk had been moved. The prince jumped to the floor, and Uther was sure that he had never seen his son stamp his foot before.

"_Father_!" Arthur whined loudly.

* * *

><p>"I know that you want to stay," Gaius began as he sat a plate of bread and ham in front of Merlin, "but there are better ways to stage a protest, my boy. It isn't a good thing to anger King Uther."<p>

There he went with the 'good' and the words which Merlin didn't understand again.

"I didn't mean for Arthur to get into trouble," he replied quietly. His eyes were still red from where he had been crying, and he looked very much like he had the day before when he'd dragged Arthur off to the training field. "Arthur says that people must know you're upset, because if they don't nothing will get done, but that sometimes you gotta do it yourself to make them listen first."

"Arthur Pendragon knows much more than he should, Merlin," Gaius said with a reproachful look, and Merlin giggled nervously at the old man's tone. He was right. Arthur knew lots of things.

"Did it work? Did his father listen?"

"I'm afraid not, Merlin."

"Is my father still coming?"

"I'm afraid so, Merlin."

Merlin sighed and slumped in his chair. He took no notice of the food which had been placed in front of him, and neither of them spoke again until Gaius had cleared his own plate and had begun picking at the red grapes in the bowl on middle of the table.

"I won't be able to see him again before I go, will I?"

Gaius swallowed a grape. "No." He had been waiting for the boy to speak first.

"Okay," Merlin replied. He straightened in his chair, thoughtful. "But you can, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Merlin said again, and he leapt off his chair and ran into his room with a fierce determination which Gaius had not seen the boy possess before.

* * *

><p>Arthur was not to leave his room. It would have been alright, he thought, if Merlin had been allowed to stay with him.<p>

He didn't try and move the desk again. It would have been much harder on his own, but he would have tried if his father hadn't ordered the four knights to place it on the other side of his chambers between his wardrobe and the even fancier treasure chest which Arthur kept all of his toys in against the wall. Not even Merlin would have been able to help him.

Uther had ordered the four knights to remove anything which Arthur had a chance of dragging along the floor from his room so that Arthur only had his bed to sit on, and then his father had ordered the four knights to stand guard outside.

"I won't have that wretched boy putting nonsense into your head," he'd said, before expressing his disappointment in his son. Arthur had simply nodded and let his father's words wash over his head. He'd kept quiet, in case his father had realised that he'd allowed Arthur to keep his many bed sheets.

Arthur was busy making a rope when Gaius knocked on his door. The guards had let him past, for Uther had only forbidden a raven-haired boy knocking at his son's door.

"Go away!"

Gaius let himself in.

"Go away, Brigit!" Arthur sounded panicked. He was between the space of the wall and his bed, where he knew he could not be seen and would have time to hide his bed sheets should anyone let themselves into his room. "I'm not hungry!"

"Sire?"

"Gaius!" Arthur leapt to his feet and ran around the side of his bed, though his face fell when he saw that the physician was alone. "Where's Merlin?"

"Getting ready. It is almost twilight."

"You're letting him go?" Arthur asked, outraged. He didn't seem to notice what Gaius was holding as he stared up at him. "You're really letting him leave?"

"I have no choice, sire," said Gaius. It was hard to not reach out to the prince, when you had a broken wood in your hands. "He must be with his father."

"You _promised_."

"I was on my way to the kitchens, to gather some food for Merlin," Gaius continued, as if the prince had not spoken. He'd dealt with more tantrums in the last month than he had in his whole life, and one more would likely see the rest of his hair turn grey. "He wanted me to give you this."

The older man held out the fractured pieces of the stool which Merlin had broken with his magic on the fourth night after Hunith's death.

"He wants me to tell you that he really does think you can break it," Gaius told Arthur with an amused look. "And he says maybe he'll show you how he did it the next time he sees you."

"Really?"

Gaius was torn between a shrug and a nod. He'd promised Merlin that he would tell Arthur, but he'd also made Merlin promise in return to keep his magic a secret until the time was right. It was about as much as a six-year-old could understand, without throwing around the words 'destiny' and 'Kilgharrah said' and 'Emrys' and 'two sides of the same coin'.

"Really," Gaius said. "Are you going to take it or not?" He held out the two parts of the stool impatiently, and Arthur seemed to jump on his feet before rushing forwards.

"I'll fix it," Arthur announced. "Then there will be more for him to break."

* * *

><p>As Arthur went back to tying his bed sheets in knots, now preparing to escape and find a skilled craftsman, Gaius returned to his chambers with enough food for a week.<p>

"Did you give it to him? What did he say?"

"He's going fix the stool," Gaius said, refraining from reminding the boy that it was _his_ stool which Merlin had given Arthur.

Merlin grinned, and as the boy wrapped his arms around the man's middle Gaius thought that another stool surely couldn't be that hard to come by.


	26. XXVI

The last light of the sky illuminated Merlin's brilliant blue eyes, which were hopeful and trusting as they looked up at his father.

"Are you scared?"

"A little," said Balinor. "Are you?"

"A little," Merlin replied reluctantly, biting his bottom lip.

"Sometimes being scared can be a good thing, Merlin. If you don't learn how to be scared, you don't learn how to be brave."

Merlin considered this for a minute as he and his father walked hand-in-hand. "You must have been scared a lot."

When Balinor's laughter scared the birds out of the trees, Merlin couldn't help but smile.


End file.
